J*^ 
























4 o 



^ ••• 






"oV 





1^ c«V. ^o 




















i^ 




vv 



y 







.>v^v -^Z /ji^'v %.♦* .»!<!»;:'» V 



»• ^*' 



^°'*. 












SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA 



SONG AND STORY. 



ii 



WITH NOTES AND I L L U S 'J' R A T 1 N S , 



Frank Cowan. 

Author of " Curious History of Inskcts," " Zomara 
A Romance of Spain," kc. 



WITH AN APPLXniX : 

THE BATTLE BALLADS 

and other POEMf^ OF 

SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA 




GREENSEURG, PA. 

PRTXTED ]JY THE AUTHOR, 

MDCCCLXXVIII. 



'X, 



7^ ^^^1 



COPYRIGHT. 

FRANK COWAN, 



TO THE MEMORY OF 

ARTHUR ST. CLAIR: 

BY WHOSE LIFE, 

SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA 

HAS BEEN ASSOCIATED WITH 

SCOTLAND, ENGLAND, AND FRANCE; 

THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA; 

THE FILIBUSTERS OF VIRGINIA ; 

THE FOR3IATION OF 

LOCAL, STATE, AND NATIONAL GOVERNMENTS; 

AND THE GREAT MEN 

OF AMERICA FOR HALF A CENTURY; 

AND BY WHOSE DEATH, 

SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA 

WILL BE ASSOCIATED WITH 

THE INGRATITUDE OF REPUBLICS 

FOREVER, 

THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



As a botanist might regard a herbal of wild- 
flowers from Southwestern Pennsylvania, or a 
lepidopterist a collection of .butterflies and moths, 
seeing in the plants and insects an organic ex- 
pression of their environment, the soil, the strata 
of rocks outcropping on the hillsides, the height 
of the mountains, the depth of the valleys, the 
rivers and marshes, the temperature of the cli- 
mate, and its humidity ; so, it is trusted, the man 
of letters will see in this volume an ideal express- 
ion of the same region through the medium of 
humanity — an evolution of the soil and climate, 
the flora and fauna, the people and their history, 
into Song and Story. A glance at the Table of 
Contents will disclose in detail the scope and 
spirit of the book ; while an introductory para- 
graph to each poem will indicate the roots by 
which it is attached to the soil, and through 
which it has attained its growth. 



CONTESTS. 



PREHISTORia 

The Liast of TUe Mamniotlis 9 

Tlie Book of Mormon I7 

Tile Redman's Creed 19 

Tl\e Mouiitaiii Stair^vay ?40 

UNDER THE CROWN OF FRANCE, 
1679 — 1758. 

Tlie Liily of France 33 

Bold Cliristophier Gist 37 

Q,iiecn Aliqiiippa 30 

Port Duquesne 3I 

Ijove or Ijiicre 34, 

Tlie Grave of Jiimonville 35 

Fort. Necessity 36 

Braddock's Field 36 

Tlie Grave of Braddoek 43 

Dunbar tlie Tardy 4-3 

The Myth of Braddock's Gold 44 

A. I^egend of Fort Duqnesne 47 

Kittanning 53 

William Pitt 54 

Christian. Frederick Post 55 

Itoyalhanna 58 

Fort Machault 59 

Giiyasootha 60 

UNDER THE CROWN OF GREAT BRITAIN, 
1758 — 1770. 

The Piper L.ad 6a 

The Bird of Bouquet 64 

Meggie Stinson 66 

The Irish Convict 67 

Westmoreland 7a 

The W^hipping Post 73 

From Post to Pillar 77 

Fort Dnniuore 78 

O Wricked Dr. Connolly 79 

Logan 81 

The Ducking Stool 83 

Elizabeth Smith 84 

UNDER THE FLA Q OF THE UNITED ST A TE8, 
1776 — 1878. 

American Independence 86 

The Scalp Premlwm 87 

liocliry's Lament 88 



VI CONTENTS. 



Iieatlier Breeclies 90 

Tlie Omiiious Fox 90 

The Mallet of GiiadenliLUetteii 91 

Simon Giriy to Col. Ciawford at llie Stake 93 

Sarali Harrison 100 

The Heroine of Hannastovm 101 

The Fate of Marmie 103 

St. Clair 104 

The Haunted Man 110 

A Tale of Tom tlie Tinker's Time 113 

The Spectre Ship of Port Pitt 137 

Prince Oallitzln 137 

Samuel Brady 138 

Oeorge Rapp 139 

Sam Meason, the Robber 140 

The Hoary Old Hero of Hell 141 

The Salt, Salt Sea 160 

The Maid and the Mirage 164 

The Headless Heart 170 

King Cork and Jim Crow 193 

An Kpigram 196 

The Spectre of the Button-t^'ood 197 

Dr. R. M. S. Jackson 201 

Moll Dell 301 

The Witch of IVestmoreland 303 

A Toast to Woman 305 

The Story of Poor Little Sue 306 

The Jester of Old King Coal 313 

Stephen Collins Foster 335 

Science and Poesy 336 

The Slave of the L.amp 338 

MmCELLANEO US. 

Maid of Mahoning 331 

Indecision 333 

The Dare-Devil Yough 333 

Monongahela 334 

The Jewels I Prize 335 

liOve's Holy Grace 336 

Oh, I Would liove You Alway 337 

The Heart Entombed 337 

Loving and lionging 338 

The Eye and the Imagination 338 

An Epigram 338 

The Demon Lover 339 

Graveyard Grotesques 340 

The Poet 341 

A Letter to a Lady 343 

To You, Man 344 



CONTENTS. vii 



To 344 

liiterjiry- Hermit Crabs ^4:5 

Astronomical 24:5 

A Fowrtli of July Alternative 34-5 

Tlie Last Kiss of L.ove 34:6 

To 34:6 

On a Ringings Bell 346 

liOve's Rule of Tlxree 34:T 

Fate 347 

To a Sillt-AVorm 348 

Her Character 348 

Katy-Did 34:8 

Despair ., 348 

Rhymes and Jingles 348 

Once, and Once Only 34:9 

The Voice of the Anvil 250 

EVOLUTION. 

The Legend of the Weeping-AVillow ^50 

The liOve-lorn Lady's Lament 355 

The Rehnke of the Sage 356 

The Tw^o ToAvers 2 56 

A Centennial Counterblast 369 

Chautauqua: A Song of Symbolism 373 

Niagara 384 

The Fiddler of Time 385 

The Last Man 391 

Index 397 

APPENDIX. 



ERRATA: 



Pagel68. line 23, for "spirit had sped," read "spirit 
that sped." 

Page 204, line 13, for " kitten," read " kit." 

Page 236, line 17, for " pure as the wave," read " pure 
be the wave." 

Page 241, line 27, for " lo," read " to." 

Page 286. line 10, for "from left to right," read "to 
left from right." 



Credit either George Farquhar or George Barrington 
with the Tenth line of " The Irish Convict," on page 68; 
Alexander Pope with the idea involved in the epigram 
on " Westmoreland " on page 72; and Lord Littleton 
with the formula of the second epigiam on "Inde- 
cision " on page 232. 



so UTH WESTERN PENNSYL YANIA 

IN 

SONG AND STORY. 



THE LAST OF TEE MAMMOTHS. 



The personages of the past, belonging to the pre-his- 
toric age of Southwestern Pennsylvania, are the Mam- 
moth-hunter and the Mound-builder. Of the existence 
of the former in the Little World, nothing is known ; 
and of the latter only that which has been inferred from 
his works found here as elsewhere in the valley of the 
Mississippi — of whom more anon. However, it is 
known to a certainty, that before the extinction of the 
Mammoth and the Mastodon, a savage man inhabited 
this valley and destroyed these monstrous animals in a 
manner similar to that described in the following stan- 
zas ; and it may be assumed that the last of these great 
elephants was killed here as elsewhere, since their re- 
mains have been discovered in this locality — the tooth 
of a Mammoth, found in 1875, off the Point in the City 
of Pittsburgh, (where the Allegheny and Monongahela 
rivers unite to form the Ohio — or, as the word signi- 
fies, the Bloody, or the River of Blood,) and now in 
the possession of the writer, suggesting the theme of 
the following poem. 

For further information, necessary, possibly, to an 
understanding of the letter of the poem, the reader, pre- 
sumed to be a stranger in a strange land, is referred 
to the notes appended. 



Beneath the weight of the new-fallen snow, 
The boughs of the fir tree bent, 

A savory feast * to the monstrous beast, 
That through the forest went. 

That through the forest went alone, 
The last of his mighty make, 

A moving mound on the frozen ground 
That made the forest quake. 



10 THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. 

His le.Gjs were as thick as the bole of the beech ^ 
His tusks as the buttonwood white, 

While his lithe trunk wound like a sapling arouna: 
An oak in the whirlwind "s might. 

His flapping ears fanned the snow into drifts 

Upon his wool-clad back, t 
Till a swaying branch an avalanche 

Swept into his pit-like track. 

Swept into the pit-like track that marked 
His course through the wild, wild wood 

That folded and spread over each water-shed 
In the forks of the Kiver of Blood. 

Swept into the track that marked his course 

Along the rugged ridge, 
Where, striding the brook in its natal nook, 

He avoided the river's ice-bridge. 

He avoided the river's treacherous bridge, 
With a cunning care and great ; J 

For well, I wis, he knew the ice 

Would break beneath his weight. 

His weight that made the forest quake. 
As he strode on the frozen ground. 

Forsooth to browse on the savory boughs 
That in the forest abound. 

When hark ! the Mammoth held a bough, 

And turned a listening ear. 
To the distant shout of the rabble and rout 

That gathered in his rear. 

Was it the caw of the carrion crow, — 
The grunt of the hungry bear, — 

The hoot of the owl, — or the hideous howl 
Of the wolf on the heels of the deer ? 

The Mammoth turned in his tracks in the snow. 

And looked toward the east, 
When behold ! a Man stood in the wild, wild wood. 

Before the monstrous beast ! 



THE LAST OF THE -MAMMOTHS. 1 1 

A MaD — God wot, but a molehill in bulk 

Beside the mountain mass 
'Of flesh and blood, that swaying stooa 

Opposing him face to face ! 

Antipodal types, yea, stand and stare! — 
In your opposite forms expressed 

The First and the Last of the Future and Past. 
The East succeeding the West ! 

Yea, stand and stare, ye antagonists 

In your bodies from your birth, 
Till, race against race, ye have met face to face. 

To win and to lose the Earth I 

Thou, Mountain of Brawn, with thy level back, — 
Thou, Whirlwind of muscular might, — 

Thou, Earth involved as it has revolved 
In space to left from right ! 

And thou, Molehill °^Brain, '"*^"^^' vertical spine, — 
Thou, Zephyr in muscle ingrown, — 

Thou, Earth deftly poled as around it has rolled 
On an axis up and down ! 

Yea, stand and stare, for never before 
On the battle-ground of the earth, 

Two greater foes stood to maintain with their blood 
Their opposing rights in their birth ! 

Thou, Mammoth, prepare for the conflict at once : 
Set before thee thy terrible teeth. 

And "P°''/^" Man rush, ""^ beneath thy weight crush 
The contemptible pigmy to death ! 

And thou, Man, prepare ^^^^ *^^ cunning and care : 
Take into thy earth-freed hand || 

The weapons ^^''=^ Thought ^°'' ^^^ wants '''^' wrought, 
The spear and the burning brand ! 

When behold ! the spear and the brand multiplied, 
Till the wild, wild wood was aglow 

With the glancing gleams and the bounding beams 
Upon the new-fallen snow ! 



12 THE LAST OF THE MA3IM0THS. 

Now, hark ! to the shout of the rabble and rout, 

That gathered in the east, 
And the track pursued thro' the wild, wild wood. 

Of the strange and monstrous beast I 

And hark ! to the roar of the last of his race, 
That hushed in derision the shout. 

As the moving mound on the quaking ground 
Divided the rabble and rout ! 

Divided the rabble and rout right and left, 

With an irresistible rush, 
Until he came to a wall of flame 

On a feeble foundation of brush ! 

"When, before the apparition of Thought, 
Surmounting the burning boughs, 

He stood : For the moment of Life had come 
To Think above the To Browse ! 

He stood — and though but a moment he stood 

Confronted by Destiny, 
Yet the fire burned the wool '^"^ '^^ brow ^"^ ^^' skull. 

And a spear-point went into his eye. 

When he turned and fled from the east to the west, 

In the snow thro' the wild, wild wood 
That folded and spread over each water-shed 
In the forks of the River of Blood ! 

While, upon his flanks, the divided throng 

Closed fast with a phrenzied zest, 
And madly pursued the beast through the wood 
"^ In his course from the east to the west — 

Hurling here a spear and there a brand 

Against the monster's side. 
Till his track thro' the wood to the River of Blood, 

With his trickling blood was dyed. 

On on on on 



The Mammoth moved without rest, 
Striding over the brook in its natal nook 
That notched the wooded crest. 



THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. 



On on on on 

The Mammoth kept his course, 

Pursued behind by the Man of Mind, 
Like Matter driven by Force. 

On on on on 

Until he tremblins stood 



On the crunching edge of the treacherous bridge 
That spans the River of Blood. 

Before him ice ! behind him fire ! — 

Behold the bleeding beast, 
Like the winter's sun that in red has run 

Its course from the burning east ! 

When — Was it the gleam of the setting sun 

That flashed across the sky — 
Or the quivering point of the barb of flint § 

In the monster's bleeding eye ? 

The Mammoth turned from the bridge of ice, 

And faced the wall of fire, 
When, roaring with pain he rushed again 

Like a thunderbolt of ire — 

Like a thunderbolt of ire that knew 

Existence but as aim — 
When, behold ! the beast is striding east 

Through a breach in the wall of flame ! 

And a writhing form is impaled on his tusk, 

And another is in the air, 
While a third is beneath his feet in death, 

Beside a broken spear ! 

But what are the lives of a score in the throng 
Of the new-born conquering brood, 

That rose in the east to drive the beast 
Into the River of Blood ? 

With redoubled zest, they ran from the west, 
And rekindled the terrible brand, — 

When, again face to face, race opposing race, 
See Man and Mammoth stand ! 



14 THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. 

"When again the spear is hurled at an eye 

AYith an unerring aim ; 
And the roaring rush is checked by brush 

That leaps again into flame. 

A blackened, bristling, bleeding mass, 

Within a blazing wood, 
The Mammoth turned ; ''"''"^ the spear-shafts burned 

To their barbs in his flesh and blood. 

The Mammoth turned and fled before 

The fire that came behind, — 
As ever since Man and the world began. 

The Seeing pursues the Blind. 

Till again, at the edge of the treacherous bridge. 
The Mammoth in darkness stood, — 

While the lurid lisrht of the brand in the nio-ht 
Illumined the River of Blood ! 

For a moment stood — to sensation dead; 

When, behold ! he silently strode 
In his night of despair, like a cloud in the air, 

On the ice of the River of Blood ! 

And the ice was as firm beneath his feet 
As the ground on the frozen shore — 

Will he pass out of sight in the darkness of night. 
And be seen upon earth nevermore ? 

Ah, no \ The Mammoth's pursuer is Man, 
That knows no end but death — 

But to feed his force with his foeman's corse, 
And to. breathe his dying breath. 

Upon the ice, the rabble and rout 

Surrounded the bleeding beast 
With a wall of fire that rose higher and higher 

As the fuel was increased — 

Until the Mammoth, concealed in the flame 
That girdled the spot where he stood. 

With a deafening crash and a fire-quenching splash, 
Sank into thre River of Blood ! 



THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. 15 

Sank into the River of Blood — of Death ! — 
That, receiving the monstrous corse, 

Upheaved and rocked thrice the bridge of ice 
With an earthquake's mighty force ! 

Sank into the River of Blood — of Time ! — 
Aye, that was the crack of doom, 

That crashing roar from shore to shore, 
Above the Mammoth's tomb ! 

Aye, that crashing roar was the crack of doom, 

The awful and the dread. 
That summoned the Last of the forms of the Past 

To the darkness of the Dead — 

Leaving naught behind to the Man of Mind 

Remaining in the wood 
That folded and spread over each water-shed 

In the forks of the River of Blood — 

But a vague and uncertain reflection — a myth — 

Of a silent cloud that passed 
Away in the night while begirt with a light 

That concealed while revealing the Last. 

But a vague and uncertain reflection — a myth — 

A summer evening's dream. 
When the clouds °'' the sky assume shapes ^ the eye, 

And realities are not but seem. ^ * 

But a vague and uncertain reflection — a myth — 
To the mind of the wondering youth. 

When the dredge brings up,'" its deep-dipping cup, 
A strange and monstrous tooth — 

A Mammoth's tooth, off the Pittsburgh Point, 

In the eddying, swirling flood, 
Where the two waters mett and embracing greet, 

As one in the River of Blood — ■ 

Like Man, the river that rolls from the North, 
From a head with an icy mouth ; ** 

Like Woman, the flood ^'^"^ the warmth °^ her blood, 
That comes from a heart in the South — f f 



16 THE LAST OF THE MAMMOTHS. 

Where the two rivers rueet, '''"^ ^'^"^ man'^'^'^ wife greet, 
In the flood from the East to the West, 

That flows on forever to the Glulf of the Giver, 
And the Sea of Eternal Rest. 

While in their bed are laid the dead, 

Of the first and ot the last. 
Who have swelled the flood of the River of Blood, 

In the Mammoth of the Past ! 



* The bi-anches of the fir, and other resinous trees, 
have been found well preserved in the stomach of the 
Mastodon. 

t The covering of the Mammoth was a compound of 
wool and hair, loiig and thick, sufficient to protect it 
against the rigors of even an arctic winter. 

X The "rugged ridge," along which the Mammoth is 
said to have kept his course from the east to the west, 
is the route which, in 1758, was taken by General 
Forbes, and in 1763, by Colonel Bouquet — the "cunning 
care and great," ascribed to the monstrous beast, being 
that which the latter asserted and maintained in 
opposition to the judgment of Washington, who 
advocated the southern or Monongahela route, which, 
in 1755, General Braddock had pursued — to the River 
of Blood in appalling reality. 

II In the struggle for existence, the advantage to Man 
in his earth-freed hand cannot be over-estimated. The 
brand — or fire in its myriad forms — is the most for- 
midaible weapon Man has ever wielded. 

g Erroneously, the arrow-points exhumed in Amer- 
ica are said to be of flint — a mineral not found in this 
country. They are of quartz, in its several forms of 
chert and jasper and chalcedony. 

1[ The myth of the Redman, with respect to the Mam- 
moth — the Big Bufialo, of his language — is given as 
follows by Thomas Jefferson, in his Notes on Virginia: 

"A delegation of warriors from the Deleware tribe 
visited the government of Virginia, during the Revolu- 
tion, on matters of business ; after this had been dis- 
cussed, and settled in council, the governor asked some 
questions relative to their country, and among others, 
what they knew or had heard of the animal whose 
bones were found at the licks on the Ohio. 

" Their chief speaker immediately put himself into an 
attitude of oratory, and with a pomp suited to what he 
% 



THE BOOK OF MORMON. 17 



conceived the elevation of liis subject, informed him 
that it was a tradition handed down from their fathers, 
that in ancient times a lierd of these tremendous ani- 
mals came to the Big-bone lick, and began an universal 
destruction of the bear, deer, elk, buflfaloes, and other 
animals which had been created for the use of the In- 
dians. And that the Great Man above, looking down 
and seeing this, was so enraged, that he seized his 
lightning, descended to the earth, seated himself on a 
neighboring mountain, on a certain rock, where the 
print of his feet are still remaining, from whence he 
hurled his bolts among them, till the whole herd were 
slaughtered, except the big bull ; who, presenting his 
forehead to the shafts shook them off as they fell; but 
at length one of them missing liis head glanced on his 
side, wounding him sufficiently to make him mad; 
whereon, springing round, he bounded over the Ohio at 
a leap, then over the Wabash at another, the Illinois at 
a third, and at a fourth leap over the great lakes, where 
he is living at this day." 

** The Allegheny — an Indian name, the significa- 
tion of which is an enigma. In the opinion of many, it 
means the Endless River. McCullough, in his ]Varrd- 
iive, says, "it signifies an impression made by the foot 
of a human being, for said they, [the Indians among 
whom he was a captive,] the land is so rich about it that 
a person cannot travel through the lands adjoining it 
without leaving the mark of his feet." 

ft The Monongahela — the River with the Falling- 
in-Banks — "Old Muddy Banks," in the parlance of the 
people of to-day. • 



THE BOOK OF MORMON. 



The works of the Mound-builders in Southwestern 
Pennsj'lvania are unimportant in comparison with 
those in the more centi'al portions of the valley of the 
Mississippi. They consist, principally, of look-out 
mounds commanding river views, as if to guard against 
surprises by a savage foe that descended the streams in 
fleets of canoes. However, there is a peculiar interest 
attached to the works of these mysterious people in the 
Little World, from the fact that the Reverend Solomon 
Spaulding, the reputed author of the Book of Mormon — 
the Bible of the Mormons, — resided here during the 
greater part of the time that he was engaged in its com- 
position — a work of fiction that grew out of his study 



iS THE Brn.K OF MORMOX. 

of the mounds and otiiei' earth-works in Northeastern 
Ohio and Southwestern Pennsylvania. The residence 
of Mr. .spaulding was in the villaKeof An:kity, Washing- 
ion county; and for an account of his life and labor and 
the falling of his MS. into the hands of Sidney Rigdon, a 
printer, in Pittsburgh, see Dr. Creighs History of Wash- 
ington county, pp. 89-i)8. 



It is the marvel of the age ! Here )ay 

The works of thousands hn^j; since dead *""'' buried, 

The Mound-builders vclept, in ularioir text 

Stupendous, that he that ran might read, 

And read aright, more readily ihan wron^. 

But — thou mockery ui' wisdom's self! 

This second Solomon. Jew-spectacUd. 

From pouring over ancient Hebrew tomes, 

Perceived naught but with perverted vision, 

And saw in these same savaajes, presto ! 

The long lost tribe of Israel ! and wrote 

His chronicles accordingly in error ! 

But what uf that, compared ^ "^^""^ hath followed — 

Behold ! a second Joseph* into being came, 

A dieamer and interpreter of dreams ; 

And, in this fiction of the cler<i;yman, 

He read the word of God proclaimlnti; him 

His vicar henceforth unto all manjiiind. 

And lo ! before the boy has shorn his beard, 

That was but mullein down when Joseph came, 

A nation in the wilderness has risen 

That, ''""'' the sight vouchsafed with zeal '^ sinners. 

Reads in this book, yclept the Book of Mormon, 

That ^^■•^'^^ delights them most '' Hell ^'^'^ Heaven ! 

For, if this story teaches aught, 'tis this : 

Man reads not what's without, but what's ^\ithin, 

Not what's before, but what's behind his eyeball, 

Writ in the red ink of his blood and being I 



* Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon Church, 
or Church of Latter Day Saints, born at Sharon, Ver- 
mont, 23rd Dec, I8O0, and killed at Carthage, Illinois, 
27th June, 1S44. 



THE Redman's creep. 11-^ 

THE REDMAN'S CREED. 



Tlu? successor in Southwestern Pennsylvania to the 
Ma ni moth hunter and Mound-builder was the Redman, 
or Indian, in occupation, on the entrance or intrusion 
of the Whiteman, or Pale-face, from Europe, M'ith his 
recording pen. marking the beginning of the Historic 
Period of the Little World. Of this Redman, alone, or 
un associated with the White, of whom libraries have 
been written in prose and pbetry, I shall give only two 
poems in this hook, in order to present to the Reader 
the opposite Gods of the Redman with which the stu- 
dent is confronted in every volume which treats of the' 
I eligious beliefs of the savages of America — the con- 
crete and the abstract, the material and the spiritual. 
The first is based upon the remarks or two of the most ex- 
trax)rd i 11 ary savages, of whom there is any record, Te- 
oumseh and Black Hawk ; the second is purely ficti- 
tious. Illustrating al the same time the idea of 
the Manito. or Great Spirit, of the Redman, and 
tlie peculiar topography of the mountain Ridges 
ot southwestern Pennsylvania. 



The sun's my father, and the earfJi, my mother ! — 
Thus spake Tecumseh,"^ in his savage pride, 
But with a seuse and comprehension, wide 
As wisdom yet, within the brain of maii, 
Has compassed in his beinsj an external plan — 
A sense and comprehension growth-inwroughc 
Into the substance of his life and thought, 
Until he lived, in brawn and brain, as one. 
In fortitude, the Earth, in fire, the Sun ! 

i am a man. and yon are but another ! — 

Thus ^1'^"^ *^« chieftain Black Hawk,t "^^"^ """^ age, 
And worn with long confinement in a cage, 
Unto his captor and his keeper — him 
Whom millions bowed before as great ''''^ grim. 
The Hero of New Orleans, in the tent, 
While in the nation's hall, the President ! 
He was a man, and Jackson but another; 
He was a man. and Jackson but his brother ; 
Though he, an aged man, in chains was led, 
While Jackson stood in a great nation's stead ! 



20 THE MOrXTAIN STAIRWAY. 

The suns my father, and the earth my mother ! 

I am a man, and yon are hut another ! 

Such was the Redman's concrete creed and code, 
That made him Great, without an abstract God ! 



* At an interview with Governor William Harrison, 
at Vincennes, 27 July, 1811. 

t In the White House, at Washington, 22 April, 1833, 
after his imprisonment in Fortress Monroe. 



THE MOUNTAIN STAIRWAY. 



Crossing the several ridges of the Alleghanies, from 
the east to the west, on the turnpike leading from Phil- 
adelphia to Pittsburgh, the succession is as follows be- 
yond the great anticlinal, the Alleghany Mountain 
proper: LaureJ Hill, Chestnut Ridge, Di-y, or Randolph, 
Ridge, and Grapeville Ridge. Looking eastward from 
the residence of the writer, on a spur of the Grapeville 
Ridge, the crest lines of these mountains are seen rising 
above one another — gi-eat steps in fact, up and down 
which it is easy to pass in fancy. 



Like great rough and shaggy hemlocks, 

Of decreasing size and thickness, 

Lying side by side half buried 

In the leaf-mould of the ages 

Where the tempest laid them prostrate, 

Are the mighty mountain ridges 

Of the Alleghanies, looking 

Westward to the verdant valley 

Of the beautiful Ohio — 

Of the Kedman's stream. The Bloody. 

Like groat steps by which the mighty 
Manito* descended from the 
Mountain to his children in the 
Valley of the Bloody River ; -\ 
Where the arrow tipped with jasper 
Reddened in a brother's heart-blood, 
And the spear of chalcedony 
Quivered in a sister's bosom, 



THE MOUNTAIN STAIRWAY. 



And the tomahawk or feld spar 

Cleft the skulls of sons and daughters, — 

Till the noble race of Redmen 

Lived within the womb of woman 

Hid in terror in the marshes — 

Lived alone within the womb of 

Woman hid within the marshes, 

Trembling with the shaking rushes, 

Shivering in the chilly nightwind, 

Feeding upon snakes and berries : — 

When the Manito — the Father 

Of the noble race of Redmen — 

Taking by the hand the mother 

Hid in terror in the marshes, 

Led her to a place of safety — 

Up the mountain steps ascended 

Of the rough and shaggy hemlocks, 

To his home upon the summit 

Of the lofty Alleghanies : — 

There to bear her children gladly, 

Breathing life with the Great Spirit. 

In the fragrance of the pine-tree ; — 

There to rear her children bravely, 

Wrestling with the mighty whirlwind, 

Shooting arrows with the lightning, 

Shouting war-whoops with the thunder, 

Giving joy unto the mighty 

Manito upon the mountain, — 

Till he laughed above the thunder, 

Like a father with his children ; — 

There to speed her children westward. 

Grown to be brave sons and daughters, 

Down the streamlets in their birch-barks. 

To the river, the Ohio — 

To the Redman's stream, The Bloody ; — 

Where the battle raged incessant 

In the struggle for existence ; 

Where the heart's blood flowed like water, 

Where the water flowed like heart's blood : 

Where the noble race of Redmen 

Lived alone for blood and slaughter, 



22 THE MOUNTAIN STAIRWAY 

Till again they neared destruction, 
And the mother hid in terror, 
In the secret fens and marshes. 
And the Manito, descending 
By the rough and rugged stairway, 
Of the ridges laid like hemlocks. 
Took her to a place of safety 
Id his home upon the mountain — 
Where the noble race of Redmeu 
Live alone for blood and slaughter, 
Till again the}' near destruction. 
And the mother hides in terror 
In the secret fens and marshes. 
When, behold ! a pale faced brother 
Comes instead of the Great Spirit, 
Down the great steps of the ridges 
To the valley of The Bloody — 
Beaching far into the marshes, 
Slaying there the teeming mothers 
With the unborn generations 
Of the noble race of Bedmen — 
Leaving in eternal silence, 
The Great Spirit of the Mountain. 
Father of the race of Bedmen, 
Mourning for his murdered children, 
While the lightning darts unheeded. 
And the thunder shouts unanswered, 
Brooding in eternal silence. 
Like a father for his children. 



* This word is preserved in the name of the Cone- 
maugh, below the confluence of the Loyalhanna, Kiski- 
minetas — the name of an old town, at or near the site 
of Saltsburg, thus spelled and translated bj' McCul- 
lough. the Indian captive, " Kee-ak-kshee-man-nit-toos, 
v/hich signifies Cut Spirit: *' which, in turn, signifies, as 
I undei'stand it, the spirit severed from the body. 

t I take it the Ohio was called so because, in the 
struggle for existence, it was the scene of the most nota- 
ble conflicts between the rival races of savages who nav- 
i^jated it in their bark canoes, thereby becoming asso- 
ciated with the flowing of blood — and thence, seeing 
the without from within, the River of Blood. 



THE LILY OF FRANCE. 23 

— 1749 — 

THE LILY OF FRANCE. 



The next people, after the Mammoth-huntei's, the 
Mound-buiUlers, and the Redmen ox* Indians, who as- 
serted and maintained the domination of Southwestern 
Pennsylvania, was the French, which they did, from the 
discovery of the Mississippi in 1679 to the end of the 
Seven Years' War in 1763, underthe nameof Louisiana,in 
honor of Louis XIV., the Grand Monarch, in whose reign 
the valley of the Mississippi was entered and appropri- 
ated — and under the name, in general, of New France . 
'• Not a fountain bubbled on the west of the Alleghanies , 
but was claimed as being within the French empire. 
Louisiana stretched to the head-springs of the Alle- 
ffheny and the Monongahela, of the Kenawha and the 
Tennessee."' — Bancroft. Curiously, too, the. first 
overt act of war, between Great Britain and France, in 
the Seven Y'ears' War — a conflict in which the four 
quarters of the Big World were embroiled — occurred in 
the Little: at the Point, where the City of Pittsburgh 
stands now, when the British ensign. Ward, surrendered 
to the French commander, Contrecoeur, in 1751. This 
war terminated in America most disastrously to France, 
leaving her dispossessed of the vast territory which she 
held at the beginning — the valleys of the St. Lawrence, 
the Great Lakes, and the Mississippi. And it is in the 
light of this possession and dispossession at the instant 
the new empire seemed to be most secure, that the fol- 
lowing poem is to be read. 



Aye, who but Jeanot, in the drifting batteau,* 
Blushes scarlet and looks askance, 

When Duprey fills ^'' glass ''"'^ bids the toast pass 
'■ To the King and the Lily of France ! " 

For why, Grod wot, in a twin brother's clothes, 
Deceiving her lover's fond eyes. 

Sits Jeanette as Jeanot, in the drifting batteau, 
The Lily of France in disguise ! 

For a thousand leagues and many more, 

Across the salt, salt sea, 
She has fled the ire of a thwarted sire, 

With her own true lover to be ! 



24: THE LILY OF FRANCE. 

With her own true lover to be, to be, 

Come weal or woe unto death, 
To live ben-^ath his look, and to breathe 

His being in her breath ! 

"With her own true lover to be, to be, 

In the quivering, heated air, 
O'er the yawning abyss of eternal bliss, 

Suspended by a hair I 

With her own true lover to be, to be. 

Fulfilling the precious part, 
Involved in the birth of woman on earth, 

The halidom of the heart ! 

Her father and mother forgotten — all 

The joys to mortals given, 
To live, alone with her lover, unknown, 

Like a star by day in heaven I 

Aye, who but Jeanot, in the drifting batteau, 
Blushes scarlet and looks askance, 

When Duprey tills ^'^ glass ^"^ bids the toast pass, 
"To the King and the Lily of France 1 " 

"Oh, wert thou thy sister, thou flaxen-haired boy," 

Duprey, in an ecstasy sighs, 
"This world would I give one moment to live 

In the love-light of thine eyes ! " 

And scarcely the wurd is spoken and heard, 
When, winging its flight o'er the flood, 

A jasper-tipped dart goes into her heart 
From a savage foe in the wood. 

With a hasty hand the dart is withdrawn, 
When, revealed in her bosom's charms, 

Ah, what doth the lover in anguish discover 
But the Lily of France in his arms I 

Bliss upon Earth, ever in the grasp 

Of pursuing Ignorance, 
Until Wisdom at last clutches firmly and fast — 

A. corpse in the Lily of France ! 



THE LILY OF FRANCE. 25 

The boat is shored ; the mournful crew 

Dig; deep in the oozing sand ; 
The rising wave conceals the grave 

From living eye and hand . 

And the boat is launched, and adown the stream 

The merrj Frenchmen go — 
Jeanette, a jest of the mottled past, 

Duprey — none cares to know ! 

And now and anon, in the unknown world, 
As they drifting blindly advance, 

They themselves possess of the wilderness, 
In the name of the Lily of France. 

Till, having seized all, a victorious crew, 
They ascend the stream to its source, 

When, looking back upon their track. 

They see but an arrow-pierced corse ! 

The arrow-pierced corse of the Lily of France, 
In the grave by the rippling flood 

Of the Beautiful River, that flows on forever. 
The Ohio — the River of Blood ! 

The while Duprey, left in the lurch, 

Pursues a lily-white fawn,! 
That turns in the wood, and, with eyes of blood. 

Still beckons him on and on — 

Till fainting, and falling in the wood. 

But strength enough remains 
To trace upon a yielding stone 

The end of wordly gains — 

And in a mass of plastic clay, 

The tablet to enclose, 
That, in a hole in the earth, the scroll 

For ages may repose. J 

That, when to dust he shall have gone, 

The child may read, in fear. 
Of the beckoning ghost, of the loved and the lost 

In the bloody-eyed, lily-white deer ! 



Zb THE LILY OF FRANCE, 

While tile bearded sagc^. with llje wisdom of age. 
May see in the scroll, perchunoe^ 

The Fren'-h posiressed "^ the World "^ ihe We.sr — 
In 1 1} e gra v e of t h <? Li I V of Ft a n ce 1 1 1 



=^ The batteau was a fiat-buttomed boat propelled by 
oars, or allowed to drift with the stream, guided by a 
dipping rudder in the stern, and adapted for the trans- 
portation of cannon, stores, and troops. 

t A tradition is preserved among the descendants of 
the first settlers of the valley of the Allegheny, in the 
neighborhood of Kittanuing, that the first white woman 
vrho was slain by the Indians became a white deer that 
haunted the wood in which she was killed for many, 
many years — until the wood fell before the ax of civil- 
ization, when the shadow departed, as the sunshine 
entered. 

X A few years ago, in tlie town of Alliance, Ohio, by 
some persons making an excavation for the cellar of n 
house, there was discovered a ball of clay, about the size 
of a man's liead, in the centre of which was a slate 
stone, on which, in letters evidently scratched in with 
the p»)int of a knife, was this sorrowful record : " Lost in 
the woods — Starving to death -r C. I. Hare — J77ti." 
The ingenuity involved in tiie preservation of this frail 
record is most remarkable. Compare it witli the fol- 
U)\ving. 

II In order to perfect their possession of the great val- 
ley of the Mississippi, the French, if» 1749, sent out an 
expedition, commanded by Louis Celeron, to deposit 
metal plates, reciting in French their possession, at the 
mouths of the principal tributaries of the streams 
Avhich they descended, the Allegheny and the Ohio. 
The plate, found at Venango — in the grave of the Lily 
of France, in melancholy reality — bears the following 
inscription : 

LAN. 1749. DV REGNE DE LOVIS XV ROY DE 
FKANCE NOVS CELERON COMMANDANT DV^ST 
DETACHMENT ENVOIE PAR MONSIEUR LE ^I'lS 
DE LA GALLISSONIERE COMMANDANT GENER- 
AL DE LA NOUVELLE FRANCE POVR RE TABLIR 
LA TRANQUILLITE DANS QVELQVES VILLAGES 
SAUVAGES DE CES CANTONS AVONS ENTERRE CE 
FLAQUVE AL^ CONFLVENT DE LOHYO ET DE TOR- 
ADAKOJN CE 21^ JUILLET PRES DE LA RIVIERE 
OYO AUTREMENT BELLE RIVIERE POUR MONU- 
MENT DE RE RENOUVELLEMENTDE POSSESSION 



BOLD OHRISTOPHER ULST. 27 

QUK N0V8 AVON?: PRIS DE LA DITTE RIVIERE 
OYO ET DE TOVTES CELLES QUI Y TOMBENT ET 
DE TOVTES LES TERRES DES DEl'X COTES JUS- 
<iXTE AVX SOVRCES DES DITTES RIVIERES AINSI 
Q VEX ONT JO V Y OV DV JOVIR LAES PRECEDENTS 
ROIS DE FRANCE ET QUILS SY' SONT ilAINTE- 
NUS PAR LES ARMES ET PAR LES TRAITES 
SPECIALMENT PAR CEVS DE RISWICK 
D'VTRECHT ET DAIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 



— 17.^:^ — 

BOLD CHRISTOPHER GIST. 



With the advent of Cs<ptatn Christopher Gist, as the 
<:i'uide of Major George Washington, on his mission from 
CJovernor Dinwiddie, of Virginia, to Legardeur de St. 
Pierre, the commandant of the French fort at Venango, 
Fort Machault, the strife between the English and the 
Frencli for the possession of the Little World of South- 
v;restern Pennsylvania may be said to have begun. Tiiis 
was in the year 17oo. Before this time, however, Gist, 
and many English traders had been in this country, but 
it fell to the lot of George Washington to be the first per- 
son to carry the authority of a government about him 
— a distinction thft marks the first step in the public 
•career of this extraordinary man. And here, in pass- 
ing, it maj- be said, that, although Washington was not 
horn in Southwestern Pennsylvania, yet the country is 
indebted as much to this region for his greatness and 
distinction, as to the State of his birth, for it was here 
that he was instructed in the art of war, in association 
with the greatest generals on the continent at the time, 
Braddock. Forbes, and Bouquet, in the several expedi- 
tions or campaigns which bear their names respectively. 
Gist was a native of En-gland. His cabin, built on the 
tract of land in Fayette county, known as Mount Brad- 
dock, was the first house built by an Englishman west 
of the Allegiiany Mountains on land held by vir- 
tue of English warrant and authority. 



"No path hath the forest, 
Except the wide swath 

Of the scythe of the storm. 
Keenly whet in its wrath ; 

Aud the track of the wild-fire, 



28 BOLD CHRISTOPHER GIST. 

That roars through the heath, 
Leaving all in its wake 

Black and ghastly in death '" — 
"Aye, truly; but yet, 

While the heavens exist, 

I'll go where I list," 

Says bold Christopher Gist ! 

"The heavens are hid 

By the o'er-reaching rack, 

And the sun and the stars 
Are unseen in the black ; 

While the lightning may lead 
To the dread precipice, 

And leave blindness to leap 
Into aye in th' abyss" — 

" Aye, truly ; yet ne'er 

Will the heavens be missed, 
While the vines* westward twist, 
Says bold Christopher Grist ! 

"The mountains are many. 
And rugged and steep ; 

The rivers are rapid. 
Deceitful, and deep ; 

The thickets are thorny. 
Entangled and tough ; 

The rocks are relentless — 
So i;agged and rough" — 

" Aye, truly, they are ; 
But they never resist 
The heart in my chest," 
Says bold Christopher Gist ! 

"The panther and lynx 

Lurk in ambush above : 
The bear and the wolf 

In the underbrush rove 
The copperheadf coils 

In the warm, sunny spot. 
While the oak-ivyj poisons 

The cool, shady grot" — 



BOLD CHRISTOPHER GIST. 2'J 

'' Aye. truly, they do ; 

But I dread — save me Christ ! 
Alone 'Had I wist'!" 
Says bold Christopher Gist ! 

*'The eye of the savage 

Can see that leaves shake; 
The ear of the savage 

Can hear that twigs break ; 
His hand and his hatchet 

Are never apart 
To gorge in a foe's blood 

The greed of his heart '' — 
*'Aye, truly; but match him, 

I will — or be missed ! 

So, give me your fist ! " 

Sa}s bold Christopher Gist ! 

The hard hand is taken — 

The last word is said ; 
The continent trembles 

Beneath their firm tread : 
For with them the armies 

Of England and France 
To the Biver of Blood — 

The Ohio — advance, 
To meet — And what followed 

Has followed, I wist, 

George Washington's tryst 

With bold Christopher Gist ! 



* The direction of the windings of twining plants is, 
in general, with the sun, from right to left. From the 
growth of the lichens on the northwestern sides of the 
trees, the points of the compass may be determined also 
by the backwoodsman. 

t The copperhead, Aticist'-odon contortrix, is as vene- 
mous as the more celebrated serpent of this region, the 
rattle snake, Crotalus horridus : and, in general, it is re- 
garded as more dangerous from the fact that it gives no 
w^arning before it strikes. 

X This plant, Rhus toxicodendron, v. radicans, with 
several allied species, quite common in Southwestern 



QUEEN ALIQUIPPA. 



Pennsylvania, are poisonous not only to the taste and 
touch, but they even taint the air to some distance 
around with a baneful effluvium. 



— 1755 — 

Q UEEX ALIQ UIFPA 



In the Journal of George Washington, kept while ou 
his mission from the Governor of Virginia to the Com- 
mandant of the French fort at Venango, in 1753, the fol- 
lowing entrj' occurs : 

"As we intended to take horses here, and it required 
some time to find them, I went up about three miles to 
the mouth of the Youghiogheny [the site of McKees- 
port at present,] to visit Queen Aliquippa. who had ex- 
pressed great concern that we passed her in going to the 
fort. I made her a present of a watch-coat and a bottle 
of rum, which latter was thought much the better 
present of the two." 

Cuiuously, too, in giving this bottle of rum to an In- 
dian, the future Father- of his Country violated most 
flagrantly two several laws of the Province of Pennsyl- 
vania, which declared it a grave offence to sell or 
give liquor of any kind to the Indians — particu- 
larly on the border, and by the inconsiderate strag- 
glers from Vii-ginia! 



There's witchery in ever}^ word 
That's spoken once and thrice is heard : 
Within the ear, an emptj sound ; 
Within the brain, a thought profound ; 
Within the heart, a throe or thrill 
Responsive to its woe or weal. 
For from the heart, the growth-floods gO' 
Back to the brain and ear. till lo ! 
The brain thinks and the ear and eye 
Perceive naught but in plantasy. 
Hear thrice the name to mortal given. 
And make of earth a hell or heaven ! 

Queen Aliquippa, once, twice, thri.ce ! 
And lo ! the world is steeped in vice, 
Until the senses sluggish swim 



FORT DUQUESXE. 31 



In a delirioujj drunken dream. 
And woman welcomes all that come 
With vice's coin a flask of Rum ! 



— 1754 — 

FORT DUQUESNE. 



The surrender of Ensign Ward to the French com- 
mandant, C'Ontrecoeur, on the 17th of April, 1754— re- 
ferred to in the introduction to the Lily of France, as 
the first overt act in the Seven Years' War— was fol- 
lowed immediately by the construction of a fort, in the 
forks of the Ohio, which was called Fort Duque§ne, after 
the Governor of Canada, the Marquis Du Quesne de 
Meuneville. This celebrated fort formed a link in the 
chain by which the French united their vast possessions 
ill America — the territory drained by the St. Lawrence 
and the Mississippi, In l!^58, in the fifth year after Its 
construction, it was blown up to prevent its fall- 
ing into the hands of the British army, under the 
command of the Head of Iron, General John Forbes. 
The site of the fort is within the limits of the City 
of Pittsburgh of to-day. 

There is a secret reason assigned for the construc- 
tion of Fort Duquesne which may be repeated here, if, 
for no other reason, than to make human and quick 
with life the dead and buried past of a century and a 
quarter ago, to wit : 

" The private scandal of the place and period attrib- 
uted the building of these establishments [the forts on 
the Allegheny and at the forks of the Ohio,] and their 
dark train of consequent calamities to the same cause 
as had since long before the day of Helen of Troy, ac- 
cording to Flaccus, brought about the waste of human 
life and the overthrow of mighty empires.- M, Pouchot, 
an officer of rank in Canada, does not scruple to insinu- 
ate that the new governor, [M. de Duquesne,] shortly af- 
ter his arrival in Quebec, became involve^ in an in- 
trigue with a beautiful woman, the wife of a resident of 
that place. M. Bigot, who had recently passed from the 
Intendancy of Louisbourg to that of Canada, had in like 
iuanner contracted a liaison with a Madame P6an, the 
wife of the aide-major of the city. Bigot being thus at 
the head of the commissary department of the colony. 
It was an easy affair for the Governor and himself to ar- 
range a plan by which the willing husbands of the 



32 FORT DUQUESNE. 



la'lies in question should be detached from an incon- 
venient vicinity to their partners. Accordingly, it was 
decided to give them lucrative employments in an ex- 
pedition which, it was gravely whispered, was concoct- 
ed for the express purpose of placing these gentlemen at 
a considerable distance from home ; and to P6an was 
assigned the command of theforces which were marched 
in 1753. The forts then built were furnished with nu- 
jnerous and expensive magazines of n:jerchandise and 
l»rovisions ; a precaution necessary enough under the 
circumstances of their position, but which, in the man- 
ner in which the business was managed, must have af- 
forded endless opportunities for the acquirement of ill- 
gotten gains. Together with the proper provisions and 
stores, all sorts of goods, always expensive, bat here ut- 
terly useless, were purchased in the name of Louis XV., 
and sent, for his service, into the wilderness. Stuffs of 
silk and velvet, ladies* slippers and damask shoes, silk 
stockings, and the costly wines of Spain, figure largely 
in the category, and enable us to conceive how it came 
about that the French colonies cost the nation so much 
and returned it so little. * * * It may be true enougn 
that the husband of each fair Evadne was named to a 
Iftgh command in the new expedition, but nothing can 
be more absurd than to imagine that to procure their ab- 
sence was the primary motive to its undertaking.'" — 
Sargent, citing M. Pouchot. 

In the light of which, the following may not prove 
unacceptable. 



'•Come hither, come hither, my little foot-page, 

And rede this riddle to me, 
And what I have that thou mayest crave, 

That will I ^ive to thee. 

"I love the wife of a merchantman, 

And dearly she loves me ; 
But in vain we yearn till our vitals burn. 

All for his jealousie." 

Oh, never a word the foot-page heard, 

A word but barely three. 
But he turned him around upon the ground, 

And a loud, loud laugh laughed he. 



FORT DUQUESNE. 33 

" My lord," quo' he ; "let us build a fort 

Afar in the wild couutrie, 
For the glory of France, '^""^ the husband advance, 

Our sutler there to be. 

'• And what thou hast to be possessed 
By thy little foot-page in ft^ — 

To '^^ lock '^*' turned when you sometime* burned, 
I crave the rusty key ! " 

With a A^ive le Roy ! and a Vive la France ! 

That echoed from sea to sea, 
A fort in the wood, on the River of Blood, 

Was built right speedilie ! 

The while, my lord and the sutler's wife 
Were as happy as happy could be. 

Their midnights of bliss being turned in a kiss — 
While the foot-page brightened the key. 

But the hottest love will cool apace 

With its satietie ; 
With state cares oppressed, my lord ''''"^'^ ''<" rest — 

And rusty again grew the key. 

*' Come hither, come hither, my little foot-page. 

And rede this riddle to me, 
And what I may that thou canst say. 

That will I do for thee. 

" I loathe the wife of the merchantman. 
And I doubt not she loathes me ; 

But — the devil take her, as ever to make her 
He was devil enough to be ! " 

Oh, never a word the foot-page heard, 

A word but barely three. 
But he turned him around upon the ground, 

And a loud, loud laugh laughed he. 

''My lord,'' quo' he ; '-let us blow up the fort 

Afar in the wild countrie ; 
Recall the French ; our expenses retrench ; 

And chaste and happy be ! 



3-t LOYE OR LUCRE. 

•• And what thou muyeji't that I can say, 

That wilt thou do for me — 
I pray thee, my lord, be as good as thy wordj 

And take back this rusty key I " 

The tiiao-azine of Fort Duquesoe 

Was fired speedilie , 
My lord Duquesne was himself again, 

And bright grew the little steel key. 



— 1754 — 

LOVE OR LUCRE. 



Another reason has been assigned, by the grave his- 
torian, for the construction of Fort Duquesne and the 
breaking out at the head of the Ohio of the conflict be- 
tween England and France which extended into the 
world-wide Seven Years' War, namely, the fur-trade of 
the Ohio, which, at the time it was lost to the British by 
the surrender of Washington, at Fort Necessity, 3rd 
July, 1754, was valued at no less than £4(),W0 a year; and 
it was then in its infanc3\ The privation of such aproflt, 
Sargent remarks, not less than the manner in which it 
was lost, was calculated eminently to excite indigna- 
tion ; and ample details of the whole, forwarded to Lon- 
don, by Governor Dinwiddle and others, brought about 
the inception of those vigorous measures which resulted 
in the expedition of Braddock and its train of disas- 
trous consequences to all engaged. "Pardieu, Mes- 
sieurs," said the young Comte d'Estaing to the English 
courtiers, who had expressed their displeasure and ill- 
humor at the loss of thislucrative trade, " ce seroit bien 
ridicule, de faire casser la tete a dix milles hommes 
pour quelques douzaines de chapeaux!"' Accord- 
ingly, a contrast between the fur-trade on the one 
hand and the intrigues of Duquesne and Bigot on 
the other, is inevitable. 



What opposite causes historians state 
Have produced *^® great wars ""^'''^ *^^"' pages relate ! 
Thus the Sevin Years' War has, ''' whole °'" '"^ part, 
A hat f jr the head and a hug for the heart ! 



THE GRAVE OF jrMONVILLE. 3o 

— 1754 — 

THE GRAVE OF JUMONVILLE. 



Thebloodof M. de Jumonville was the first to be 
shed in the Seven Years^ War, a contlict that extended 
into every quarter of the globe. This unfortunate 
Frenchman was in command of adetachment of thirty- 
five men, from the fort a few weeks hence to be called 
Fort Duquesne; and, in a night attack made upon his 
encampment by a company of Virginians, under the 
command of Washington, he, with several of his men, 
was slain — May 28th, 1754. His grave, where he fell, iu 
a wild and romantic place on the summit of the Chest- 
nut Ridge, known as Jumonville's Camp, in Fa^-elte 
county, is marked with a slab and inscription; and near 
by there issue several springs the waters of which flow 
t«.> the ocean, and of which any may be in fact that 
which is represented in the following lines in fancy. 

An extract from the poem, in four cantos, entitled 
"Jumonville," written by M. Thomas, a member of the 
French Academy, and published in 1759, is given in 
the Appendix to this volume, q. v. 



Upon a mountain's height, there is a spring. 
From which, in a continuous course and long, 
The waters, in a rill, no stronger than 
The little stream that issues from the heart, 
Flow on and on unto the sea, and thence 
Around about the great air-girdled globe, 
Until the world is washed in the pure flood, 
That rises, when its work is done on earth, 
To gleam an arch of glory in high heaven ! 

Upon this mountain's height, there is a heart, 
From which, in a continuous course and long. 
The red blood, in a rill, no stronger than 
The little stream that issues from the spring. 
Flows on and on unto the sea of war, 
And thence about the great air-girdled globe, 
Until the world is foul with human blood. 
That sinks beneath the slain into the earth 
To glare a red flame in the fires of hell ! 



36 FORT NECESSITY — BRADDOCK's FIELD, 

Thus side by side, there are on every height 

Two streams that issue, as two equal rills. 

And flow unto the sea and thence around 

About the great air-girdled globe, until, 

Look where or when you will, and, Christ behold ! 

The arch of heaven is revealed alone 

In a reflection of the fires of hell ! 



— l75i— 



The next step in the progress of the war between 
France and England, was the surrender of Major Wash- 
ington, at Fort Necessity, July ord, 1754, to the brother 
of Jumonville, the fiery Conlon-Villiers, or, as he was 
known for his prowess, ie Grand VilUers. In the his- 
tory of Washington, this event is remarkable for two 
reasons: it was his fii'st and last surrender; and it 
taught him never to sign a paper of the signification of 
which he was ignorant, that he might not confess a sec- 
ond time to the " assassination " of Jumonville. 

The outlines of this fort may be traced at the present 
day, at the Great Meadows, in Fayette county. 



In Fort Necessity — well chosen word ! — 
The bravest of the brave gives up his sword : 
To yield again, but with his parting breath, 
In Fort Necessity once more, to Death. 



— 1755 — 

BRADDOCK'S FIELD. 



The next event in the history of Southwestern Penn- 
sylvania, to be referred to in this volume, is the expedi- 
tion, under the command of Major General Edward 
Braddock, in 1755, for the reduction of Fort Duquesne, 
and the ever memorable defeat of the English army on 
the 9th of July, at a fording of the Monongahela, nine 
miles from its destination. In the annals of America, 
this battle stands perhaps unparalleled for slaughter. 
The English army, with a loss in killed and wounded of 
more than two-thirds, and the i-emainder routed in a 



BRADDOCK S FIELD. 



wilf'erness, virtuallj' was annihilated. The expedition 
y>nd the battle, however, require a volume rather than a 
prologue to a poem for their presentation. 

The scene of this memorable conflict presents one of 
the most remarkable industrial expositions to be found 
on the continent. From the bluflf overlooking the val- 
ley, are to be seen in one view three several lines of rail - 
waj', with trestle-work, river bridge, and tunnel ; the 
IMonongahela river, with lock and dam, steamboats, 
coal-fleets, rafts, etc. ; on the hillsides, the mouths of the 
coal-pits, and, descending the steeps to the tipples at the 
waters edge, the railway inclines; in the vallej^ the 
magnificent plant of the Edgar Thomson Steel Works, 
and besides the varied works of the industrial town of 
Braddock near by — the only monument to the memo- 
ry of the ill-starred British general. Tlie observer of the 
scene cannot refrain from contrasting it with that of 
the 9th of July, 1755. 



Where the oak. with the weight and the weak- 
ness of ac^e, 
With a thunder-crash fell in its struggle with 
death, 
While the storm and the wild-fire lay crouching 
to rage, 
And the forest primeval in awe held its 
breath ; "^ 
There the apple-tree stands with a low bending 
bough. 
That the school bay on tiptoe may pluck the 
red fruit, 
To sit, with closed book, and eat, wondering how 
The red blood of Braddock has come from 
the root. 

Where the proud army waded the broad rip- 
pling river, 
At the mid-summer ford on the soft sandy bar, 
While the flattering flood, with its glitter and 
quiver, f 
Kedoubled their strength and the glories of war ; 
There the staunch steamboat flies in the dam- 
deepened pool, 

f 



38 braddock's field. 

Overstepped by the stride of a great railroad 
bridge, 
Where the fisher-boy sits and calls Braddock 
a fool 
For keeping the river and leaving the ridge, t 

Where the jaded hacks || strained in the soft, 
yielding mud, 
And down the steep bank backward tumbled 
and rolled, 
While dragging the wagons of war from the 
flood — 
The cannon-balls, powder, provisions, and gold ;§ 
There the great iron-horse speeds by day and by 
night. 
In defiance of burden, resistance, and strain ; 
While the train-boy looks out, to reflect in his 
flight, 
What ! if Braddock had taken the cars to 
Duquesne ! 

Where the guns of the foe were revealed by a 
flash — 
A report — and the fall of the killed and the 
wounded, 
Till the woods were ablaze, and a deafening 
crash 
With the wail of the wounded and dying re- 
sounded ; 
There the ingot aglow is drawn out to a rail, 
While the coflee-mill crusher bombs, rattles, 
and groans, 
And the water-boy hurries along with his pail. 
Saying, Braddock be blowed ! he's a slouch to 
Bill Jones \^ 

Where the cannon of Braddock were wheeled in- 
to line. 
And swept through the forest with shot and 
with shell — 
But woe to the Briton ! in vain they combine 



braddock's field. 39 

The thunder of heaven and the lightning 
of hell ! 
There the turning converter, while roaring with 
flame, 
Pours out cascades of comets and showers of 
stars. 
While the pulpit-boy, goggled, looks into the 
same — 
Thinking little of Braddock and nothing of 
Mars. 

Where the womb of the earth opened, teeming 
with life, 
When the Redmen, begrimed with their pow- 
der and paint, 
Their guns laid aside for the hatchet and knife, 

Victorious rushed on the dying and faint ! 
There the coal-cavern yawns on the sloping hill- 
side. 
And the miner begrimed with the coal-dust 
and soot. 
His barrow and pick and his lamp laid aside, 
Comes out of the pit his employer to shoot ! 

Where the whoop and the shout of the Redmen 
and French 
Resounded exultant and wild through the 
wood. 
From the gully which formed their invisible 
trench. 
To the great river turbid with mud and with 
blood ; 
There the " Gospel of Peace and Good Will to 
Mankind," 
Is preached in the pulpit and practiced — I 



While the valley resounds with "Umbrellas to 
Mend ! " 
"Potatoes ! " "Old Clo'es ! " "I am blind ! " 
"Milk! "and "Glass!" 



40 braddock's field. 

Where the bears** with the flesh uf the Halkets 
were full, 
While the wolves in their wrangling rent Shir- 
ley in twain ; 
Where the crows pecked the eyes out of Spen- 
delow's skull, 
And the maggots waxed rounded in Hamil- 
ton's brain ; 
There the churchman partakes of the sanctified 
bread, 
And his son devours melons in spite of the 
cramp, 
While his daughter at ten takes her breakfast 
in bed, 
And his dog at the gate tries the leg of a 
tramp ! 

W^here the bones of the Britons from white 
turned to brown, 
As they lay in the shade of the forest for 
years, 
Unburied, unknown — till his sire to a son, 
By the gold in the tooth of a bared skull 
appears ! "j"!" 
There the bones of the dead — of the high and 
the low, 
In ground consecrated are buried in state — 
Crape, carriages, silver — a service — a show ! — 
Till the school-girl inters in a cheese-box her 
cat! 

Where the battle of Braddock was fought in the 
wood. 

Till the bullet of Fawcett jj revengefully sped. 
To dip in the proud, haughty general's blood, 

And number him first in the list of the dead ; 
There nothing remains to remind of the same, 

But an oxidized bullet dug up by a clown, . 
The oak where the Halkets fell — that and a 
Name 

To mock at the mu^e in the toil of a town ! 



BRADDOCK S FIELD. 41 

Tu mock at the muse in the toil of a town ? 

Nay ; but for a moment, and then to inspire — 
To cleanse of the concrete, like time and renown, 

And brighten the abstract in poesie's fire ; 
Till the Battle of Braidock's the Battle of Life, 

And the conflict of yore is repeated to-day — 
Or continued the same in the spirit of strife, 

With alone the form changed of the battle 
array. 

Every Heart is a Braddock at war in a thicket. 

Beset with invisible Redmen and French, 
Awaiting the time when recalled is the picket 

And Error and Pride stumble into the trench ; 
Every Heart is a Halket — both father and 
son — 
In an army where Chance utters Braddock's 
command, 
Till the Fawcett of Fate comes behind with his 
gun, 
And a tooth in a skull tells alone of The End ! 



* A startling phenomenon of the forest is the falling, 
when the air is still, of a great oak that has withstood 
the storms of centuries. It is a token of the approach 
of a storm. As the air lightens, the impalpable but 
none the less potent props, by which the tree is sup- 
poi-ted, are removed, and the tree falls, accordingly, 
crushed by its own weight. 

t In after life, Washington was accustomed to ob- 
.serve that he had never seen elsewhere so beautiful a 
sight as was exhibited during this passage of the Mo- 
nongahela. Every man was attired in his best uniform ; 
the burnished arms shone bright as silver in the glis- 
tening rays of the noonday sun, as, with colors waving 
proudly above then* heads, and amid inspiring bursts of 
martial music, the steady files, with disciplined precis- 
ion, and glittering in scarlet and gold, advanced to their 
position. 

1 This is the popular comment with respect to the 
course which Braddock pursued. Sargent writes, 
" The perils of the [river] route were self-evident ; there- 
fore abandoning all idea of pursuing it, he started on 
the morning of the 7th, and leaving the Indian track 



42 BKADDOCK's. FIELD. 



which he had followerl so Ions, essayed to work his way 
across Turtle Creek some twelve miles above its conflu- 
ence witli the Monongahela r a step which, )iad it been 
carried out, would have ensured his success. He wouki 
then undoubtedly have sat down before the fort Mith 
little or no opposition on iiis way. But the fates were 
against him." 

!| "There was vile management here," Washington 
truly said, with respect to the hoi-ses with which the 
army of Braddock was supplied. To have mounted 
.Jack Falstaff 's men, they would have been in keeping, 

? Among his munitions of war, Braddock is said to 
have had -£25. 000' in specie. The search for this treasure 
supposed to have been buried along the line of retreat, 
is continued to this day. See the following poem. 

*:. For why? God wot, Braddock never, at asingle 
jump on the level, cleared a distance of thirty-one feet, 
nine inches and an eighth, as this worthy carries a tape- 
line in his picket in proof that he did, on one occasion, 
when it becrame necessary, in the very building referred 
to, to prove an alibi beneath a falling roof! Besides,' 
Braddock was defeated and is dead; whiie Jones has 
never been w^hipped, and is the life of the country for 
miles around him; and long may he continue so ! 

•* " It is said that for some time after Braddock's de- 
feat, the bears having feasted on the slain, thought they 
had a right to eat every human being with whom they 
met.'"— Doddridge's Xotes,\:> 21. 

tt The skeleton of Sir Peter Halket, interlocked wnth 
that of a son, was identified by an artificial tooth. 
When the mournful discovery was made by Major Hal- 
ket a s.on and brother, he fainted in the arms of his 
comrades. The tree, pointed out as the one beneath 
which the Halkets fell, is entitled to little consi<leration. 

XX Thomas Fawcett, of Fayette county, in his old age 
asserted that he shot Braddock, during the engagement, 
in order to check the slaughter of the British and pro- 
vincials, by enabling them to betake themselves to 
flight without orders, and to avenge a blow dealt by 
Braddock with his sword upon a brother, who, after the 
usual manner of fighting with Indians, had betaken 
himself to a tree behind which he could load and fire in 
safety. By the critical historian, the story of the old 
man is pronounced a fiction of self-glory.- 'The possi- 
ble, however, to the poet is the fact, if he requires it so 
to be. 

Several poems, contemporaneous with the expedi- 
tion of Braddock, are given in the Appendix. 



"THE GRAVE OP BRAD DOCK. 



— 175.5 - 

THE GRAVE OF BRADDOCK. 



Vrora her earliest youth, Braddork was the constant 
t'nend of the frail, but beautiful and accomplished 
actress, George Anne Bellamy. At her request, he gave 
the agency of his regiment to her putative husband, Mr. 
Calcnift; and, on the eve of his departure lor America, 
he went, with Colonel Burton and Captain Orme, to take 
a last farewell. " Before we parted,"' Miss Bellamy 
writes, in the Apology for her Life, " the Uenej-al told me 
he should never see me more ; tor he was going with a 
handful of men to conquer whole nations: and to do 
this they must cut their way through unknown 
woods. lie produced a map of the country, saying, 
i\\. the same time, 'Dear Pop, we are s«nt like sac- 
rifices to the altar,'" 



Oh, had the g,rave of Bmddoek tongue, 
These words had long ere this been wrung 
From evdr}^ eclio in the glade — 
"Dear Pop! the sacrifice is made! " 



— 1755 — 

DUNBAR THE TARDY. 



"So soon as Braddock was beneath the sod, the 
march was resumed under Dunbar, who, with 300 
wounded in his ranks, arrived at Fort Cumberland on 
Tuesday, July 22nd, at two in the afternoon. By his po- 
sition in the rear and the sluggishness of his motions, 
this officer had already acquired the unflattering sobri- 
quet of ' Dunbar the Tardy' ; and his conduct now en- 
countered the censure of his superiors, the disgust of his 
equals, and even the criticism of his inferiors. At head- 
quarters, his retreat was estimated as more disastrous 
than the defeat itself."— Sargent. 



Dunbar the Tardy ! Aye, give him the blame 
Of the stupendous failure, and the shame 
Of the disastrous ending to the war ! 
A scapegoat is required — yea, damn Dunbar! 



44 THE MYTH OF BRADDOCK's GOLD. 



— 1755 — 

TEE MYTH OF BRADDOCK'S GOLD. 



Braddock is said to have had in his military chest, 
on the day of his disastrous defeat, £25.000 in specie; and 
further, report saith not. If, along with the General'-s 
Instructions and private papers, his baggage and stores, 
this treasure fell into the hands of the French and In- 
dians, they made no mention ot it in their official re- 
turns. And if, abandoned or secreted by tlie diivers in 
their flight from the battle-field, there is a chance that 
you or I might find it along the line of the retreat, pro- 
vided it has not been exliumed and squandered already. 
This ghost of a chance, however, for a century and a 
quarter, ha? haunted the minds of many, and will for 
many years to come. There is scarcely a mile of Brad- 
dock's Road that has not been broken with the mattock 
at midnight to find this possible, but most improbable 
treasure. And, as might be supposed, jibout which 
there is so much thought in so many persons, there 
has been evolved a number of legends and stories per- 
taining, to which the following is added. 



In a lonely wood, two brothers stood 

Between two ragged rocks, 
Where, in the mould, lay Braddock's gold. 

In a rusty iron box. 

Their clothes were worn with toil, and torn. 
Their beards were grizzled and thin. 

Their cheeks were as gaunt as the jaws of Want, 
And their eyes were the soulless of Sin. 

For grandsire, sire, and son had they. 

For a hundred years and more, 
Searched in the night, in stealth and affright. 

To find the secreted store. 

Till all were gone, save the two alone 

Opposing breast to breast. 
With the wealth untold of Braddock's gold 

At their feet in an iron chest. 



GOLD. 45 



Save the two alone, of skin and bone. 

In secresy and stealth. 
But to bend the back and a firm hold take, 

And rise from want to wealth ! 

When, lest they false to each other prove. 

Each knowing' the other's sins, 
With an iron chain, good faith to maintain, 

They bound together their shins. 

But they bent in vain, again and again. 
To lift the weight of their wealth ; 

For work and want their strength had spent 
In secresy and stealth ! 

But whai of a box of a metal base 
That doth but the treasure hold ? 

Aye, what of a crust of iron rust, 
When all within is gold? 

With a heavy sledge and an iron wedge, 

The brothers broke the locks ; 
When ^^'^ sledge fell again and ^^^ wedge went amain, 

And opened the lid of the box. 

When the younger brother, who guided the wedge, 
Thrust his hand through the opening crack ; 

In his greed to enrage him that wielded the sledge 
Above his brother's back ! 

With a flash of fire from the elder's eye, 

And a curse with his gasping breath — 

Down came the sledge! — but not on the wedge, 
And the younger lay in death ! 

Ha! ha! ha! ha! the elder laughed. 
Till the woods around did ring ! — 

An the wealth untold of Braddock's gold 
Had made him of earth the king ! 

He dropped the sledge, and, close to the wedge, 

He thrust his hands in a trice ; 
When, with a crack, the wedge flew back. 

And he was held in a vise ! 



46 THE MYTH OF BRADDOCK's GOLD. 

And he was held in an iron vise 

Which thB strength of the twain ''""''^ not wrest. 
While, plain to the touch of his greedy clutch. 

He felt the gold in the ehest ! 

Was ever the sooth of the Scriptural saw 

More plainly shown upon earth, 
That, from sire to son, the sin shall run, 

To the third generation and forth. 

When the hands shall be held in an iron vise, 

Which the sinner alone can tell. 
With his end attained — in his sinful hand, 

And his soul for aye in hell ! 

Behold this wretch of the wretched, the rich. 

With his gold within his grasp, 
Grim, grizzled, and gaunt, with work and want. 

And fast in his coflPer's clasp ! 

Behold this Cain, with an iron chain, 

To Abel bound perforce, 
Till he craved as food the flesh and blood 

Of the stinking, rotting corse ! 

While the fly went into the open mouth, 

And its eggs into maggots were grown, 

That quickened afresh the murdered flesh, — 
Till nothing appeared but bone ! 

When lo ! a hungry crow flew down 

Upon the murderer's head, 
Where, cocking its eyes on his hands in the vise. 

Upon his eyeballs fed ! 

When into their sockets the flesh-fly went, 
And its eggs into maggots were grown. 

That quickened afresh the murderer's flesh, — 
Till nothing appeared but bone ! 

Till nothing appeared but bone and bone 

Bound together with a chain, 
A heavy sledge, and an iron wedge, 

And the gold in the grasp of Gain ! 



A LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. 47 

Till nothing appeared, as the years sped by, 

But iron rust and mould, 
In a hollowed spot, in a haunted grot, 

And the myth of Braddock's gold. 

A myth, forsooth, but withal a truth 

To be told to young and old, 
That the greed of Gain, with the curse of Cain, 

May remain with Braddock's gold 1 



— 1755 — 

A LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. 



From the destruction of Braddock's army in 1755, 
until the advent of the army under the command of 
General Forbes, the French held undisputed sway at the 
Iiead of the Ohio and throughout the valley of the Mis- 
sissippi, during wliich time the events, related in the 
following poem, are supposed to have taken place. The 
number of women at Fort Duquesne is not known ; but 
from the stores of ladies' attire, already mentioned, as 
having been purchased in King Louis' name as mu- 
nitions of war, it may be inferred there were enough to 
supply the demand of a society play or novel. A num- 
ber of women followed the army of Braddock, three of 
whom, it is known positively, were saved in the gen- 
eral massacre — two to be sent as slaves to Canada, and 
the third, presumably more comely than her compan- 
ions, to be retained by the French commander at Ve- 
naiigo. In fine, as far as I can learn. Woman, if she has 
not gone into the wilderness hand in hand with 
Man, has been so hard upon his heels that a 
tarn alone was required to meet face to face, with 
the usual consequences. 



An hundred years ago and more. 
In good King Louis' reign, 

This chance befell, as legends tell. 
The French in Fort Duquesne. 

The captain of the guard, Lemoyne, 
Besought, with gold and fee, 

The daughter of Dell, the sentinel, 
His lenian lewd to be. 



48 A LEGEND OF FORT DUQl'ESNE. 



But never a word spake Isabel, 

But barely these words three — 

'• Nay ; never for pelf will I yield myself 
Unto thy lecherie. 

'•The light of the jewel in my ring, 

In wedlock to be given, 
Shall never be made a shameful shade — 

So help me, Christ in heaven ! 

"And more, Lemoyne : thy wicked words. 

Speak never to me again, 
Lest another's ear their echo should hear — 

The sentinel of Duquesne ! " 

The sentinel of Duquesne ! God wot, 

Compared unto his child, 
As rude and rough and as gnarled and gruff, 

As she was meek and mild. 

At whose dread name, in sudden fear, 

The lusty coward fled. 
Within his face no brighter trace 

Of blood than in the dead. 

Now. mark the cunning of Lemoyne 

To compass his intent : 
Unto Pardee, in secresie 

A summons straight he sent. 

And in his hand be placed a sword, 
With never a word but three — 

" Art thou a drudge to bear a grudge 
Unto eternity? 

" Crouched in thy cloak, as Isabel, 

Unto her father advance, 
And with thy sword strike with the word — 

Louisiana — New France ! 

"And when the morrow's sun shall see 

The dead man in the fort. 
The captain's oath shall save us both 

From any ill report." 



A LEGEND OF FORT DUQLESNE. 49 

With a willing ear, the wicked wight 

Heard every evil word ; 
With ornashing teeth and indrawn breath, 

He grasped the prot'ered sword. 

Whereat Lcmoyne, unto his bed 

In expectalion crept, 
To hang on the morn the murd'rer forsworn, — 

And in dreams of Isabel, slept. 

Meantime, fair Isabel had gone 

Unto her father, perchance, 
And passed the word to be spoken and heard — 

Louisiana — New France ! 

And while in his bosom she told her tale, 

His gun athwart her back, 
The sentinel's eye caught against the sky 

A shadow in her track ! 

The shadow of a woman — or witch. 

In the might of a magic spell, 
That spake the word to be spoken and heard, 

With the voice of Isabel I 

When crash ! a ready, rapid sword 

Against the musket fell, 
To break and fall upon the wall 

Before the sentinel. 

But ere the blade had ceased to ring 

Upon the parapet, 
The murderous shade in death was laid 

By the sentinel's bayonet. 

A light procured, the sentinel 

Discovered in the slain 
One of the guard whose life he had spared 

Erewhile in Fort Duquesne. 

And in the summons in his fob, 

And in the broken sword, 
The base design of the lusty Lemoyne, 

The captain of the guard. 



50 A LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. 



'•Come hither, my child, and doff thy gown," 

The valiant sentinel said : 
And then anon he bade her don 

The raiment of the dead. 

And into her hand he placed his guD, 

And bade her pace the wall, 
And cry "All's well ! " like a s^ntinel^ 

To every current call. 

Then into the gown of Isabel, 

He thrust the naked dead, 
To bear it away, ere the break of day, 

Unto the captain's bed. 

And what *^"^^ curt were the sleeves and skirt 

For Isabel was small, 
While in life the slain had stood in Duquesne^ 

The tallest of the tall — 

With the broken sword, the sentinel 

Cut off the legs at the knee,- 
And eke the head and the arms of the dead^ 

And fit it to a tee. 

Then away he sped to the captains bed, 
And laid the corse by his side, 

The truth to tell, as Isabel, 

And bade him greet his bride. 

" Oh, wherefore liest thou so still — 

And hidest thou thy head ? 
Oh, raise thy lip that I may sip " — 

He drank the blood of the dead ! 

" And, dearest love, unfold thine arms, 
And clasD me to thy breast — 

Here let me lie until I die " ^— 
It was a corpse he pressed 1 

"Nay. Isabel, unlock thy limbs. 

Lest force with prayer unite " — 

When lo ! appeared one of the guard — 
The murdered Dell, with a light ! 



A LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. 51 



O horror of horrors, the lusty Lefuojne 

BeheW, iu his embrace, 
The mangled corse of — Isabel ? — worse ! 

Of the wretch Pardee in her place ! 

And when with horror his soul was glut. 

Id terror he shrieked outright ; 
But he 'jailed in vain in Fort Duquesne, 

For aid that terrible night. 

For the storm, that wrapped the world in black, 

Had burst above the fort, 
And naught could be heard by the startled guard 

But the thunder's loud report. 

And naught could be seen — but, Christ behold ! 

On the wall the sentinel, 
Kevealed io the night by the daggering; light 

Like a sentinel of belli 

A monster with a severed head 

Suspended, in the air, 
Above a face of matchless grace, 

With a woman's flowing hair ! 

A monster, with two severed legs, 

That strode upon the wall. 
Now stalking here, now stilting there, 

Most marvelously tall ! 

A monster, with two severed arms 

That waved to and fro, 
As if to catch a fleeing wretch. 

Or clutch a struggling foe ! 

A monster with a flaming gun 

With a gleaming bayonet — 
From the crooked joint to the quivering point, 

A dazzhng lightning jet ! * 

A monster that, above the storm, 

Cried thrice and again, "All's well !" 

In a tone as clear to every ear 
As the voice of Isabel ! 



52 A LEGEND OF FORT DUQUESNE. 

Until the cock crew in the morn, 

When lo ! the monster fled ; 
And the valiant Dell, the sentinel. 

Unwittingly btood in its stead ! 

But whence the captain of the guard ? 

And whence the wretch Pardee ? 
Borne with the flood in the River of Blood 

Unto the salt, salt sea. 

Leaving naught behind to keep them in mind 

And their unhapp}' chance, 
But the broken sword and the spoken word — 

Louisiana — New France. 

A word — a Name, God wot, to drift 

In a few years down the river 
To its multiple mouth in the sunny South. 

And there to abide forever. 

Where on a snag, a floating flag 

Had lodged erewhile and lain — 

Or was it the gown that had drifted down 
With the twain from Fort Puquesne ? . 



* This phenomenon has received the appellation of St. 
Elmo's Fire. It was known to the ancients by the name 
of Castor and Pollux, and many instances have been re- 
corded by classic writers. The night before the battle 
gained by Posthumius over the Sabines, the Roman jav- 
elins emitted a light like torches; and Csesar relates 
that during the African war, in the month of February, 
there suddenly arose, about the second watch of the 
night, a dreadful stoi*m that threw the Roman army in- 
to great confusion, at which time the points of the darts 
of the tifth legion appeared to be on fire. The fire of St. 
Elmo is displayed frequently upon the masts of vessels ; 
and at Edinbui'g castle, which stands upon a high rock, 
it is noticed often. Here, upon the approach of a storm, 
the bayonets of the soldiers on guard are seen 
frequently capped with flame, and an iron ram- 
rod, placed upright upon the walls, presents the 
appearance of a rod of flame. This curious phenomenon 
has been explained by Brocklesby as follows : When in 
a darkened room a needle is brought near to the charged 



KITTANNING. 



cniidnotor of nn electrical machine, the point is tipped 
with a vivid li?ht, caused bj' tlie flow of electricity from 
the conductor to the needle. In the same manner when 
thunder-clouds approach very near the eai'th, li^litninj? 
<loes not always occur; but the electricity becomes so 
intense, that it escapes from one to the other 
by points upon the surface of the earth, which then 
slow with a brilliant flame. 



— 1756 — 

KITTANNING. 



In September, I75(), an expeditif)n, under the com- 
mand of Colonel John Armstrong, of Carlisle, was put 
into execution aeainst the Indian town of Kittannin^-, 
about fortj' miles north of Fort Duquesne, on the Al- 
legheny river, from wliich, up the Kiskiminetas and 
Conemaugh and down the Juniata, the Indians made 
their incursions into the settlements in the central part 
of Pennsylvania, to glut their appetites, rendered raven- 
ous for scalps and prisoners, by the destruction of Brad- 
dock's army, in which they shared. At this place, the 
French had deposited ammunition and supplies for the 
Indians, sufficient, as they boasted, to carry on war 
against the English for ten years. Here, it was, too, that 
the noted Indian, Captain Jacobs, a Deleware, resided 
permanently, and the no less celebrated Shingis, occa- 
sionally. Jacobs was among the slain, at the destruc- 
tion of the town, and the military stores. The force of 
Armsti'ong consisted of 307 men, of whom 17 were killed, 
19 reported missing, and 13 wounded, including the gal- 
lant Colonel, who received a large musket ball in the 
shoulder. Eleven women and children, English cap- 
tives, M'ere retaken and restored to their friends. The 
loss to the savages is unknown, beyond the fact that it 
was severe, serving to che^k their ravages for some time 
afterward. Such of them as had belonged to Kittan- 
ning and escaped the carnage, refused to settle 
again on the east of Fort Duquesne, very wisely 
placing that fortress and the French garrison be- 
tween them and the English. 



Auld Scotland "'"•' crack o' ''"' Armstrongs "' hame, 
Till the day of doom doth dawn, 

But there's ane that's awa is a head aboon a', 
A braw man and worthy, hight John. 



54 WILLIAM PITT. 



Och, ower the mountain and ower the moor, 
He cam' wi' three hundred a' tould, 

And beleagured the thief o' an Indian chief 
In the town of Kittanuing of auld. 

Och, the fire it leapt high, ''"'* the fire it leapt far. 

' Till the town was a' in a lowe. 
And wha were uae brent, ^ ^^^'"^ lang hame ^"""^ sent 
Wi' the guns o' the compassing foe. 

But the eagle of victory never sae screams, 
As when it soars drippin' wi' gore — 

0' the three hundred men a' tould and again, 
There were wounded and killed two score. 

But wha will measure the victory's worth. 

By the slain o' foe or friend, 
Is a near-sighted loon i' the blink o' the moon. 

That sees nor beginnin' nor end ! 

Och, what sae gleams on Johnny's broad breast, 

Beneath a showther scar? 
Hout ! what should it be ^''^^ sae ghams i' the e'e. 

But the gowden glories o' war ! 

But what is the sound that greets the ear? 

Ah, that is the prayer to Grod 
0' the mother and wean wha hae captive been, 

Hame returned frae the wild, wild wood. 

Aye, proudly, proudly the guid gowd gleams 

On Johnny Armstrong's breast ; 
But dearer far than the glories o' war 

Is the prayer that mak's him blest ! 



— 1757 — 

WILLIAM PITT. 



During the years 1755, 1756, and 1757, a series of de- 
feats in succession pursued the English arms in America, 
until despondency seized upon the mind of tlie people. 



CHRISTIAN FREDERICK POST. 55 



"I never saw so dreadful a time!" exclaimed Lord 
Chesterfield. 

At length the creation of a new ministry in Eng- 
land, at the head of wliich was placed William Pitt, af- 
terward the Earl of Chatham, produced an immediate 
change for the better in the aspect of affairs. Public 
confidence revived, and the nation was inspired 
with new vigor. 

An objective point to the new administration was 
the head of the Oiiio; and the reduction of Fort Du- 
quesne was determined upon at all hazards. This was 
achieved in the following year, when a new fort, upon 
the ashes of Duquesne arose to perpetuate the name and 
fame of the Premier of England forever. Fort Pitt, upon 
the site of which stands to-day tlie City of Pittsburgh, 
a monument, I trow, as proud and enduring as any 
within the walls of Westminster. 



The Little World was a thouolit in his brain — 
The reduction forthwith of defiant Duquesne! 

The Little World in his hand was a prize — 
The Fort of the Frenchman a cloud in the skies ! 

The Little World is a world of fame, 
Revolving for aye round the hub of his Name ! 



— 1758 — 

CHRISTIAN FREDERICK POST. 



In oi'der to prevail upon the Deleware, the Shawa- 
nese, and the Mingo Indians, to withdraw from the 
French, Christian Frederick Post was dispatched to the. 
Ohio by the government of Pennsylvania, in advance of 
tlie second English army marched through the wilder- 
ness for the reduction of Fort Duquesne — the array un- 
der the Head of Iron, General John Forbes, a native of 
Scotland. Post was an honest, unassuming German, a 
Moravian, who, as a missionary, had become acquaint- 
ed with the Indians and they with him: and how well 
he succeeded in his mission may be learned from the 
following poem. In 1762, a hundred miles west of the 
site of Fort Duquesne, he attempted to establish a mis- 
sion, but, failing in this, he removed to the Bay of Hon- 



06 CHRISTIAN fREDERICK POST. 

duras, to preach the Gospel to the Mosquito Indians, 
His Journal is one of the most interesting of the rec- 
ords of the Little World. 



An army of four thousand men 

Wound thro' the wild, wild wood, 
The British lion on their fl;tg, 

Their coats as red as blood ; 
The fate of Braddock iu their hearts, 

As they crept thro' the heath ; 
But never, I ween, was foeman seen, 

And all was still as death : 
For the Man of Peace "^ their track had crossed 
An hour before, in Frederick Post ! 

With drums uublunn-, and pipes unblown, 

With eyes and ears alert, 
The trembling thousands shunned the glen 

And glade with thicket girt ; 
But the sword by day with rust was red, 

And by night with dew was wet. 
While, in njockerie, the leaves of the tree 

Fell on the bayonet : 
Fur the Man of Truth f had corae with the frost 
That shook the leaves, in Frederick Post 1 



The scout by day crept iu the brake, 

And crouched behind the oak, 
Or looked afar from the mountain's height 

For the hidden camp-fire's smoke ; 
The sentinel alone at night 

Stared at the ogling owl. 
And shuddered at the scream of the cat, 

And the wolf's discordant howl : 
But the Man of Faith t availed them most, 
Who had gone before, in Frederick Post ! 

The Head of Iron, from his couch. 
Gave courage and command. 

Which Washington, Bouquet, and Grant 
Repeated to the band ] 



CHRISTIAN FREDERICK POST. 57 



Till, hark ! the Hi<:hlunders began 

With their chieftain's words to swell, 

"To night, I shall sup and drain my cup 
In Fort Duquesne — or Hell ! " || 

But the Man of Prayer, and not of boast,§ 

Had spoken first, in Frederick Post ! 

At length the army stood amazed 

Upon a vacant plain, 
And pitched their tent in wonderment 

On the ashes of Duquesne ! 
The formidable Frenchman, gone ! 

And the Redman come, in sport, 
The peace-pipe to light, in the gathering night, 

With a brand from the burning fort ! 
For the Man of God ^ with a mightier host 
Had gone before, in Frederick Post ! 



* " I prayed the Lord to restore peace and prosperity 
to the distressed."— Po«i{'« Journal. 

t "They were certain I would speak the truth," — 
Ibid. "I have a good conscience before God and 
man."— Ibid. 

% "The Lord knows how they have been counselling 
about my life; but they [the French] did not know who 
was my protector and deliverer : I believe my Lord has 
been too strong against them; my enemies have done 
what lies in their power." — Ibid. "I told them it is 
done by no other means tlian by faith " — Ibid. " I said. 
' As God hath stopped the mouths of the lions, that they 
could not devour Daniel, so he will preserve us from 
their fury, and bring us through.'"— Ibid. 

II John Ormsby, a commissary in the army under 
Forbes, makes the following statement in his brief biog- 
raphy of tlie Head of Iron : 

" When the army arrived at Turtle Creek, a council 
of war was held, the result of which was, that it was im- 
practicable to proceed, all the provisions and forage be- 
ing exhausted. On the General being told of this, he 
swore a furious oath, tliat he would sleep in the Fort or 
a worse place the next night." 

g "I slept very sound, and in the morning they 
asked me if I was not afraid the enemy Indians would 
kill me. I said, 'No, I am not afraid of the Indians, nor 
of the devil himself: I fear my great Creator, God."— 



58 LOYALHANFA. 



Post's Journal. And yet — discretion was the better- 
part of valor even in Christian Frederick Post: "Some- 
of my party desired me not to stir from the fire; for that 
the French bad offered a great reward for nay scalp, and' 
that there were several parties out for that purpose^ 
Accordingly, I stuck constantly aldose to the fire, as if I 
hud been chained there.''— 1 bid. " I prayed to the Lord to- 
blind them [the French,] as he did the enemies of Lot 
and Elisha, that I irvight pass unknown.*'— Ibid, 

^ "The Lord helped me that I got safe from my 
horse."— Ibid. "Praise and glory be to the Lamb, that 
has been slain, and brought me through the country of 
rireadful jealously and mistrust, where theprinceof this 
•world has his rule and governm.ent over the children of 
i-iksobedience."— Ibid^ 



— 1758 — 

LOYALHANNA. 



While the army of Forbes lay on the banks of the 
Loyalhanna,=:= about fifty miles east of Fort Duquesne — 
an encampment which a few months hence became 
Fort Ligoiiier,— Colonel George Washington, in com- 
mand of the troops froirs Virginia, indited several letters 
to the woman with whom he was enamored at the time, 
and who, in after years, became his wife, but not a 
mother to the Father whose child was destined to be 
One among the Nations of the Earth. 



Thrice blessed the name of the beautiful stream 
That winds through the leafy grove, 

Where, rapt in a vision of pleasures elysian, 
George Washington sighed in love ! 

Fond lover ! behind the morrow's wall, 



Thou starest into stone ! 
womb of woman is given 
To bear mortal daughter and son 



The womb of woman is given unto man 



But the womb of war has been given to thee ! 

And erelong it shall burst into fire, 
And a Nation of Earth come forth into birth. 

Immortal, to hail thee Sire ! 



FORT MACHATJLT. 59 



* The signification of the word Lo5'alhantta — a va- 
riation or corruption of La-el-han-neck, as given by 
McCial3ough, is Middle Creek: possibly because, it is 
«,bout midway between the mouth of the Black' Lick 
and the Allegheny, in descending the Conemaugh and 
Kiskimiiaetas. Mrs. Margaret C. Craig gives a tradi- 
tionary signification, namely, Ciear-runnmg Water, 
which is erroneous-, albeit, It has been accepted by mj- 
learned friend, James Johnston, Esq., of Kingston; while 
the legend which attributes the na-me to the faithful 
•daughter of the last of the Indians who resided in the 
gorge, a certain Loyal Hanna, who supported her father 
In tlie extremity of age, with her bow and arrow, is ou 
a par with the popular origin of the word Ligonier, the 
ffiiame of the old fort on the Loyalhanna, at present the 
town of Ligonier, in Ligoiiier township, Westmoreland 
county : namely, that an early hunter, shooting at a deer 
while the animal was scratching its ear with its hind 
foot, by chance killed it, perforating at the same time 
the leg an' ear! 



— 1759 — 

FOJiT MACHAULT. 



" At this point — the French fort at Venango — there 
were sometimes as many as one thousand men. A 
large force had assembled here in July, 1759, to make au 
attack on Fort Pitt, to recover what they had lost in 
Fort Duquesne, when intelligence came that P^ort Niag- 
ara was besieged, and orders to evacuate and hasten 
thither to the rescue. The creek was too low to convey 
their eflTects by boat, and there was no transportation by 
land, beyond personal baggage. So, presents were dis- 
tributed with a lavish hand to the Indians. Grim war- 
riors were seen strutting about in laced coats and hats, 
without other clothing, and dusky maidens were rich 
with red blankets, worn shawl-wise, and gaudy with 
immense strings of beads. The property was collected 
into the Fort, set on fire, and all that would burn was 
reduced to ashes. Thus, after a possession here of 
five and a half years, the French claim was aban- 
doned forever." — Eaton. 

The while, the interior of Forti Pitt, was in the fol- 
lowing plight, as depicted by John Ormsby, the 
commissary — 

" Our Commandant, Col. Mercer, was informed by 
express that there were 1,500 regulars and a strong 



60 GUYASOOTHA. 



body of Indians at Venango, making ready for 
an expedition against our post, which would at- 
tack us within three days. 

"Tiiis information, you may be sure, struck a panic 
into our people, beihg 3iX) miles from any aid, and sur- 
rounded by the merciless savages, from whom no expec- 
tation of mercy was in view, but immeiUate destruction 
by the tomahawk, or lingering starvation. 

"I must own, I made my sincere application to the 
Almighty, to pardon mj- sins and extricate us from tliis 
deplorable dilemma. Our prayers were heard, and we 
[were] extricated from the dreaded massacre, for day 
before the expected attack, an Indian fellow arrived from 
Niagara, informing Col. Mercer that General Johnson 
laid siege to Niagara, with a formidable English army, 
so that the attack on Fort Pitt was countermanded, and 
the French and Indians ordered to return toward Ni- 
agara witli the utmost hasste. This was done, and when 
they arrived within a day's march of Niagara, the brave 
Irish General Johnson ordered an ambuscade to a ditR- 
cult pass, through which she above troops were to 
march, and thus they were all killed or taken, to the 
great joy of poor Ormsby and his associates !" 



"Farewell, and forever, 

Thou, Beautiful River ! " 
Was the Frenchman's adieu, with his brag array, 

When, resounding afar, 

The cannons of war 
Redoubled the roar of Niagara I 



— 1763 - 

GUYASOOTHA. 



During the Heroic Period of the history of the Little 
World of Southwestern Pennsylvania, possibly the most 
important personage among the Indians, as well as the 
most characteristic savage in contrast with the White 
man, was Guyasootha, a leader of the Seneca tribe of 
the Six Nations. " A most distinguished character in- 
deed," writes'Craig, "in all the movements hex-e, from 
the time of Washington's first visit until after the close 
of our revolution. He was one ot the Indians who ac- 
companied Washington from Logstown to Le Boeuf, 
He was then young and not very prominent. He was 



GlYASOOTHA. 01 



present, and a leading; character, in the conference with 
Colonel Bradstreet, near Lake Erie, in 17»54, and a few 
sveeks later at, the conference with Bouquet on the Mus- 
kingum. He was a leading character in the conference 
held at this place [Pittsburgh] in April and May, 17()8- 
He was the leader in the attack upon and burning of 
Plannastown in 1782. In 1770, wliile Washington was 
descending the Ohio river, lie was visited by an Indian 
wliom he recognized as one of his companions in 1754. 
It was Guj-asutha. His name, too, has been so various- 
ly spelled tliat it is sometimes difficult to trace him in 
ditterent notices, Guyasutha, Guyasootha, Kiasutha, 
Kaishuta. Guyasudy, and General Richard Butler, who 
understood some of the Indian dialects spelled it Kia- 
sola. He survived all the troubles of the French Mar, 
fl75t-!t,j of the war sometimes called Pontiac's and some- 
times Guj-asuthas [1763-4,] and of our Revolution [1776- 
88,] the most fatal of all to the power and glorj- of the 
vSix Nations. Finally he died in our neighborhood 
within the memory of many now living [in 1851,] and 
lett his name to the beautiful plain on the Allegheny 
river, where his remains now rest.'' At the breaking 
out of the war, the honors of which have been divided 
between him and Pontiac, in 1763. he was at the meridian 
of manliood, an organic expression of his environment 
magnificent to behold. 



It was the observation of a child, 

That every plant that grows grows in accord 

With its surroundings, in the sun or shade, 

Id humid ground or dry, in rich or poor, 

Until, beholding dwarfed and stunted fruit. 

He saw the cause in the effect direct, 

And cried out, '* Ho ! that grew upon the ridge ! 

But oer and o'er a thousand times, the child 
Turned in the dust of dissolution, and 
Looked out upon the world, before he saw 
Himself grow as the plant, in strict accord 
With his environment — the air he breathed, 
The soil from which he drew his sustenance, 
The great without which turned to the within ; 
When lo ! beholding self as he had grown, 
He saw himself forthwith the ear-marked son 
Of his environment, his sire, his God ! 



62 THE PIPER LAD. 



Reviewing, in the globules of his blood, 
His past paternal in epitome ! 

Lo ! Gruyasootha rises from the grave 

As he appeared to Washington — as he 

Stood side by side with Pontiac — as he 

Declaimed before Bouquet — as he pursued 

The harvesters of Hannastown — as he 

In fact personified the wilderness 

An hundred years ago and more : 

The tawny twilight of the wild, wild wood. 

Organic in the color of his skin ; 

The sombie solitude in which he roamed, 

The sullen mood in which he thought and willed : 

The storm, that gathered in the air, revolvinsr. 

Until it took the great oak in its grasp 

And laid it prostrate with a scornful fling. 

His purpose whirling unto its fulfilment — 

The distant fort, unguarded in the night, 

A heap of ashes, and the morning air 

A sickening stench of burning blood and bones ! 

Majestic Man, within the wild, wild wood, 
The sum of thy surroundings seen in blood ! 



THE PIPER LAD. 



— 1763 — 

This little ballad, which has been set to music and 
published by the writer, has no purview beyond being a 
souvenir in song of the memorable Battle of Bushy Run, 
August 5th and 6th, 1763, in which the Indians under 
Guyasootha were repulsed with severe loss, by an Eng- 
lish army, under Colonel Henry Bouquet, and com- 
posed almost wholly of Highlanders in their kilts and 
plaids, and of the intimate association between Scot- 
land, by means of her soldiers and emigrants, and 
Southwestern Pennsylvania, the scene ol their exploits 
or the place of their settlement. " It is quite remarka- 
ble," writes Craig, "'how prominent Scotchmen were 
in the early history of this country, Stobo was long 
confined in Fort Duquesne. Forbes drove the French 
from this place, and Mercer was the first officer in com- 



THE PIPER LAD. 63 



mand in the first Fort Pitt. Sir Peter Halket and his 
son, with several other Scotchmen, fell at Braddock's 
field. While at Grant's defeat, [ in advance of the army 
of Forbes, in 1758,j four officers of the name of Macken- 
zie, three McDonalds, a Munro and a Campbell, all of 
the Highland Regiment, were killed, while Major Grant 
himself was wounded and taken prisoner, and one 
hundred and thirty-one soldiers were killed or miss- 
ing." While, in after years in other spheres of life be- 
sides that of the soldier, there were many distinguished 
Scotchmen, the names of several of whom will appear 
in the following pages. 



Lang he loo'ed her, lang he wooed her, 

But she mocked wi' scorn — 
•' Breek sae raggit ! limb sae scraggit ! 

Piper laddy born ! " — 
But heart o' man ayj canna thole 
O' woman's scorn the dreesome dole : 
He's ta'en his fayther's pipe in hand, 
And gane to foreign land. 

" Come back, Jamie dear ! 
Come back, Jamie dear ! " — 
But seas are wide, and wae betide, 
Her Jamie canna hear. 

Loud he skirlit, loud he thirlit, 

A' that bluidy day, 
'Boon the rattle o' the battle, — 

" Brawly ! " quo' Bouquet. 
But savage ear has ta'en the sound, 
And savage e'e the lad has found : 
The pipe gi'es out a mournfu' blast — 
The piper's blawn his last ! 

" Come back, Jamie dear ! 
Come back, Jamie dear ! " — 
But graves are deep, and dead men sleep 
Her Jamie canna hear. 

Bells are ringin', b9ckward swingin', 

Hame the sogers come ! 
Hearts are beatin', een are greetin', 



THE BIRD OF EOCQl El 



Tongues vvi' joy are dumb 1 
Tlie pibroch sounds ayooi the wa' — 
But Jeaunie's heart is biak in twa ! 
While ithers run she stands aghast — 
It is nae Jamie's bhist ! 

"Come back, Jamie dear I 
Come back, Jamie dear ! " — 
But ruefu' Liroans stir nae dead bones 
Her Jamie canr>a hear 1 



— 1763 — 

THE BIRD OF BOUQUET. 



The following mnemonic for the nursery was sug- 
gested by a popular rhyme thnt answers the inevitable 
question of the child, on seeing for the first tiirie the red- 
lieaded woodpecker, and, it is hoped, in a no less satis- 
factory manner to all concerned. If the fiction serve to 
fix tlie fact of the Battle of Bushy Run in the memory 
of a single child, that it, in after years, may turn to the 
page of history to emulate henceforth the virtues and 
the worth of the gallant Colonel Henry Bouquet who 
commanded the British troops in their decisive victory 
over the savages in 1763, the jingle and rhyme shall 
have achieved the end of its being: so, with a God -speed 
on its errand, let it pass! 



'• Oh ! what has naade your head so red ? " 
A wondering boy to the woodpecker said. 

•• A-rack, a-tack, tack ! " the woodpecker said, 
" I've flown thro' the wood where the Highlan- 
ders bled, 
And that has made my head so red." 

'"And what has made your back so black? " 
The little boy said to the woodpecker's clack. 

The woodpecker answered, "A-rack, a-tack, tack ! 
I've flown o'er the dead in the Highlander's track, 
And that has made my back so black." 



THE BIRD OF BOUQUET. 



65 



''And what h;^s made your wings so white ? " 
The little boy said, as the bird took its flight. 

The woodpecker said, ere it pissed out of sight 
"I've flown where the Highlanders won the oTpai 



fight, 



And that has made my wings so white." 

'' What is your name, oh. tell to me, 
Before you peck another dead tree ? " 

The bird afar was heard to say, 

'* Oh, I am the tricolured bird of Bouquet,* 

Who led the Highlanders on to the fray ! " 



* A monument to the memory of Bouquet remains 
m the City of Pittsburgh to-day - a redoubt, construct- 
ed by him in 1761, built of brick, surmounted at the 
square with heavy timbers pierced for muskets, and 
still in a good state of preservation. The following il- 
lustration is exact except in the particular of the tablet , 
which has been removed to Municipal Hall. 




66 MEGGIE STINSON. 



— 1764 — 

MEGGIE S TIN SON. 



The year sacceeding his decisive victory at Bushy 
Run, Colonel Bouquet marched an army from Fort Pitt 
into the heart of the Indian conn trj^ the forks of the- 
Muskingum. Here the savages, overawed by his prow- 
ess and success, sued for peace, and surrendered all the 
white prisoners which they had taken and which were- 
still alive among them. As many as two hundred and 
six persons were delivered thereby to their friends, and 
many and touching were the scenes of their re- 
union. Among the young women given up was Meggie 
Stinson, or Stevenson, who had been taken into captiv- 
itj' when a child beyond her recollection; and who, 
when reco:^nized by her overjoyed and aged mother, 
shrank from her as from a stranger of another blood, for 
days and weeks, until she made an effort to return to 
her savage life in the woods, to avoid the old woman's 
unaccountable appeal to her for a daughter's recogni- 
tion. When, at length, at the suggestion of Bouquet, 
the mother sang the songs with which she had soothed 
to sleep her child in her arms, and awakened the recol- 
lection of the captive to a life that knew a mother's 
love, effecting finally a complete restoration of the 
young woman to herself and her mother now 
almost delirious with joy. 

In the histories of the expedition of Bouquet, the 
mother of the captive is said to have been a German, a 
native of Rentlingen, in Wittemberg, and the name of 
the captive Regina, which is doubtless the fact; but, in 
order to preserve a local and traditionary variation, as 
well as to have a companion song to "The Piper Lad," 
I have given the Scottish in preference to the German 
version, which, in the form of a Sunday-school book, 
is known widely and well. 



Dochrer, dear, oh, dinna flee me ! 

Mither's hand's nae fearfu' grip ; 
Dochter, dear, oh diuna dree me ! 

Mither's heart braks o' my lip : — 
Dinna ken auld age and care 
Blear the e'e and pu' the hair ? 
Oh, dinna ken your ain bluid's mither 



THE IRISH CONVICT. 67 



Frae anither 

G-reetin' sair? 

Lullaby! lullaby! 

Sleep, my bairnie, 
Lullaby. 

Dinna mind your daddy's daffin' — 
Ridin' straidelt o' his knee ; 

Brither toomblin', sister laughin'. 
Towser tsoourin' ower the lea? 

Dinna mind the cosy nest 

0' your mither's lauldin' breast ? 

Oh, dinna mind your mither's croonin' — 

Sorrow droonin' 

A' in rest ? 

Lullaby! lullaby! 

Sleep, my bairnie. 
Lullaby. 

Close your een sae wild and eerie 

Ance mair in this breast o' mine. — 

Ance mair mither's bairnie weary 

Hear the sangs o' auld lang syne.— 

God for evermair be blest ! 

Wakit heart is beatin' fast ! 

Mither's sang her bairn's bluid rins in ! 

Meggie Stinson 1 

Found at last ! 

Lullaby! lullaby! 

Sleep, my bairnie, 
Lullaby. 



— 1765 — 

THE IRISH CONVICT. 



" The Indian traders used to buy the transported 
Irish, and other convicts, as servants, to be employed in 
carrying up tlie goods among the Indians; many 
of these ran away from their masters, and 



68 THE IRISH CONVICT. 

.loined the Indians. The ill behavior of these 
people has always hurt the character of the 
English among the Indians.'"— Rupp. 

The peace of ten years, which followed the victory of 
Bouquet at Bushy Run, opened the valley of the Mis- 
sissippi to the English trader without molestation from 
the French, but not from the treacherous savage, greedy 
for scalps and spoils, or frenzied with rum, which, with 
ammunition, formed the chief articles given in ex- 
change for peltry, so that the following fiction, in 
the particular of the killing of the trader, may be 
looked upon as a tact. 

In 1770, according to a statement made by Washing- 
ton, in the Journal of his second visit to the forks of the 
Ohio, the future city of Pittsburgh comprised about 
twenty log houses which were inhabited solely 
by Indian traders. 



Och, blood an' 'ounds, ye imps of the divil. 
Can't ye quet yer jabb'rin', be daycent, and civil? 
There, hould oflp yer hand from yer murderin' 

gun! — 
Can't ye' hear my knees spake that I can't stand 

to run ? 

Och, honey, ye spalpeens, yer mightily frisky, 
With only a sniff of my good Irish whisky ! 
There, put yer dry lips to the keg on my showther, 
And the de'il take yer smokin' so close to my 
powther ! 

Faith, a tight Irish lad I am, frish from the sod, 
Shipped over the say for the ould country's good ; 
With divil a groat for my passage to pay. 
And a lord lookin' after my hilth every day ! 

Whin I landed, och hone, what a wilcome I found. 
Civility, blarney, attintion all round ! 
Sure, it wasn't a tuppence at Cork I'd a brought, 
But here, for tin pounds, by the pow'rs, I was 
bought ! 



THE IRISH CONVICT. 69 



And thin what an illigant gintleman came, 

And '-Paddy,'' says he — says he, "what's yer 

naaie ? " 
"Yer worship," says I, "I can't be too sartin ; 
But I thiok its My Eye and Betty Martin ! " 

Thin this illigant gintleman went to a store, 
And "Paddy, yer dry," says he. "That I am, 

sure 1 " 
Whin a keg of ouid whisky he clapped on my 

back. 
And strapped it there tight with a whang and a 

whack ! 

Thin "Paddy," says he, "are ye 'feard of the 

smell " — 
"Of nothing," says T — says I, " barrin' hell!" 
"Thin, Paddy," says he, "rest this on yer 

showther ; " 
And he strapped by the whisky a keg of gun- 

powther ! 

Thin, "Paddy," says he, "are ye spoilin' for 

work ? " 
"Yer honor," says I, "what brought me from 

Cork ? " 
Thin "Paddy," says he, "just to lave yer hands 

rest, 
I'll bind one on yer back and one on yer chest ! " 

" Now, Paddy," says he, " lest ye lose yer way, 
I'll travel along with ye day after day ; " 
So, over the mountains, we jogged side by side, 
When crack ! wint a gun, and the gintlemau 
died! 

Ah, thin by myself I was left all alone, 

Like an orphan at say in a strange land of 

stone, 
Whin these dirty divils — yer worships, I 

mane, 
Took compassion on me in my murderin' pain. 



'0 BALD EAGLE. 



But och, blood an' 'ounds, can't ye cut off these 

thongs ? 
And hould to yer divil's own jabberin' tongues ? 
Or spake that a scholar may hear what ye 

mane — 
And honey, my darlint. don't do that again ! 

You, you, ye ould smoke-dried — Yer honor, I 

beg, 
Will not knock off yer ashes again on this keg ! 
Sure, didn't I tell yes, I had on my showther 
But one keg of whisky and one of gun-powther? 

Och, murther ! — Ye blackguard, it's well for yer 

hide, 
I'm alone by myself with my hands nately 

tied ! 
Can't ye drink of the one, now, without — Holy 

Mother ! 
Presarve us, and keep his ould pipe from the 

other ! 



BALD EAGLE. 



"Bald Eagle was an inoffensive old Deleware war- 
rior. He was on intimate terms with tiie early settlers, 
with whom he hunted, fished and visited. He was well- 
known along the Monongahela river, up and down 
which he frequently passed in his canoe. Somewhere 
up the river, probably about the mouth of Cheat, he was 
killed — by whom, and at what pretence, is unknown. 
His dead body, placed upright in his canoe, with a 
piece of corn-bread in his clenched teeth, was set adrift 
on the river. The canoe came ashore at Provance's Bot- 
tom, where the familiar old Indian was at once recog- 
nized by the wife of William Yard Provance, who won- 
dered he did not leave his canoe. On closer observa- 
tion, she found he was dead. She had him decently 
buried on the Fayette shore, near the residence of Rob- 
ert McClean, at what was known as McClean's Ford. 
This murder was regarded, both by whites and Indians, 



BALD EAGLE. 71 



as a great outrage, and the latter made it a prominent 
item in their list of unavenged grievances." — Veech. 



With the sun's first beam, the barefooted boy 
Hails the hoary chieftain's coming with joy ; 
But his voice is choked in wonder and fright 
When he sees a wild bird with its mate alight 
On the drooping shoulders and snow-white head, 
And take from the mouth of a dead man, bread ! 

At noon, when the sage has come into view, 

The father awaits the birch canoe ; 

And his cheek turns pale and his voice is dumb 

When to his welcoming no words come. 

And lo! till the sage has swept by with the flood, 

It is felt but not spoken — "It bodes no good !" 

While the mother advancing, looks now at *^®boat, 
And then at the father — his fears to note, 
Till the milk in her bosom is checked, in its flood, 
And the babe at her breast stains its lips with 

her blood ; 
Yet she heeds not its biting and hears not its cry, 
While she sees in the white hairs its shroud 

drifting by. 

So, late in the evening, the grandsire stands, 
And beckons the boatman with trembling hands ; 
And shouts io a whisper, and strains his eyes. 
Till, more within than without he descries, — 
The phantom of Man in a boat on Time's river 
Drifting on through the night to the Sea of 
Forever ! 

At midnight, hark ! a knock is heard — 
Or is it the wing of a startled bird 
That blindly beats at the cabin's wall? 
And listen ! hush ! Is it a call ! 
And that the death-whoop ? — or the howl 
Of the worrying wolf? — or only an owl ? 



WESTMORELAND. 



The morning dawns ; and the father's brawn 

Is broiling un the threshold stone : 

His gun-barrel grasped in his eager grip ; 

His look of defiance burnt into bis lip ; 

While the grandsire's bones are crumbling and 

white 
Id the ash of the bed where he slept in the 

night. 

While the barefooted boy, with a bloody track^ 
And with pinioned hands, and a burdened back^ 
Files into the forest the savage's slave ; 
While the mother kneels in vain to save — 
The milk, oozing out of her undrained pap, 
Trickling into the brains of the babe in her lap ! 

Ah, woe the day, when Murder forsook 
Its garb of guilt and its secret look, 
And stalked, in fantastic robe, abroad 
A mockery of man and God — 
When, down the river that flows from the South, 
Came the Bald Eagle's corpse with corn-bread in 
its mouth ! 



— 1773 — 

WESTMORELAND. 



The County of Westmoreland was erected in the 
thirteenth year of the reign of Geoi'ge III., by an act 
passed on the 26th day of February, 1773. It comprised 
at first the greater part of Southwestern Pennsylvania, 
but has been divided since into several. 



The Little World was a wild, wild wood, 

Without or shape or laws, 
When George the Third declared the word, 

And lo ! Westmoreland, was ! 



THE WHIPPING-POST. 73 



— 1773 — 

THE WHIPPmG-POST. 



I attempt to locate the house of Robert Hanna 
where the courts were held; but in vain. Pondering 
about it, however, as I go along, I cannot refrain from 
seeing in fancy several scenes which flxed themselves 
in my memory from a perusal of the mustv old records 
in the archives at Greensburg which report them I 
fancy I hear the hasty stroke of the heavy lash and the 
responsive shriek of the barebacked sufferers on that 
eventful day, sacred to the lash in these old annals the 
eighth of October, 1773, when, at the public whippin-- 
post James Brigland received twenty lashes well laid on 
( the day before he got ten as an appetizer,) Luke Picket 
received twenty -one, and Patrick John Masterson M- 
tQen.- Reveries of a Rambler from Greensburg to Han- 
nastown, in 1874. 

The record of this eventful day for the lash, referred 
to in the above citation, is as follows: transcribed as it 
has been penned in the Docket of the Quarter Sessions 
of W estmoreland county, by Arthur St. Clair, the first 
prothonotary and clerk of the courts, of the county: of 
whom and the first presiding judge. Colonel William 
Crawford, more anon.* 

The King 
V 

James Brigland 

Felony, (true Bill j 

Defendant being arraigned pleads Guilty and 
Submits to the Court 
Judgment that the said James Brigland be taken the 
eighth Instant between the hours of eight & ten in the 
Morning to the Public Whipping Post and there to re- 
ceive 20 l«shes on his Bare Back well laid on that he pay 
a fine of six shillings to his Honour the Governor that 
[he] make Restitution of the Goods stolen to the owner 
& pay the costs of prosecution & stand committed till 
complied with. 

The King 
V 

Luke Picket 

Felony, (true bill) - 

Defendant being arraigned pleads non Cul de hoc 
Att'y Genl. Simileter & issue 
And now a Jury being called came to wit, James 
Kincade, William Lyon, John Armstrong, Henry Mar- 



74 THE wnippiNG-POsr. 



tin, William Linn, Robert Meeks, James Carnaughan^ 
Joseph McDowel, Lewis Davison, Williani Davison, 
John Wright & Alexander Dug:less who being duly im- 
pannelled, returned, elected tried chosen sworn and up- 
on their respective Oatlis do say that Luke Picket is 
Guilty of the Felony whereof he stands Indicted. 

Judgment that the said Luke Picket be taken to 
Morrow Morning (being the 8th Instant) between the 
hours of eight & ten to the Public Whipping Post and 
there to receive 21 Lashes on his Bare Back well laid on^ 
that he pay a fine of £32..1„0 to his Honour the Gov- 
ernor that he make Restitution of the Goods stolen to 
the Owner, pay the Costs of Prosecutian and stand com- 
mitted till complied with. 

The King 

V 

Patrick John Masterson 
Felony (true Bill) 

Defendant being ari'aigned pleads non Cul de 
hoc Att'y GenL Similiter & issue. 
[ The same jury as above was impaneled.] 

Judgment that the said Patrick JO'hn Masterson be 
taken to Morrow Morning (being the eighth Instant) 
between the hours of eight & ten to the Public Whip- 
ping Post and there receive 1& Lashes on his Bare Back 
Avell laid on that he pay a fine of £5.. 10.. to his Honour 
the Governor that he make Restitution of the Goods 
stolen to the owner & pay the costs of prosecution & 
stand .committed till complied with. 



The candle burned with a waning light 

Till it flickered in the socket, 
While I poured o'er the page *''^* "^''^ mustj "^'"^ age 

Of the Quarter Sessions' Docket — 

Of the courts that were held at Hanna's inn, 

From early morn till dark, 
When Crawford sate in ermined state, 

And Arthur St, Clair was clerk. 

When hark ! as I read, with a heavy head, 

And closing lids, I heard — 
As in a dream — the Court condemn 

In the name of Greorge the Third ! 



THE "SVHIPPING-POST. 7o 

And behold ! there appeared a felon, bared. 

As a babe at birth, to the waist, 
Who, with iron bands about his hands. 

To the whipping-post was braced ! 

And at his back a man of might, 

With an uplifted lash. 
That, with the word that was spoken and beard, 

Descended like a flash ! 

^Great God ! to hear the felon^s shriek 

That echoed in the wood ; 
And to see the gash in the quivering flesh 

That overflowed with blood 1 

Again and again the lash came down, 

Till the clerk told one and a score — - 

Till the shriek decreased until it ceased, 
And the back ran red with gore ! 

When the reeking wretch '^™'" "'^ post '^''' unbound, 

And led back to his cell ; 
His God hence the Devil, the spirit of evil. 

And his future forever, hell ! 

Wheil lo ! the guard with another appeared, 

And bound him to the stake ; 
And five and ten lashes and five and ten gashes 



Another demon mak 



e. 



And still a third at the stake wafe bared, 
And the lash came down again ; 

Till, gashed in gore, a horrid score 
Have cut out the soul of a man ! 

The while a throng of old and young 
Applauded with cheers the toast -— 

Hell, after death, is an empty breath, 
Give us the whipping-post ! 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! in letters of red, 

Let it recorded be. 
This glorious date, October Eight, 

Of Seventeen, seventy-three ! 



76 THE WHIPPING-POST. I 

When lo ! the vision dissolved into haze ! 

And alone in the forest I stood ; 
And behold ! the Frost made a whipping-post 

Of every tree in the wood ! 

The gum, the maple, and the oak 

Stood like the felons of old, 
Until the wood was red with blood 

And the horrid score was told ! 

Until the wind, that sighed in the leaves, 

Sank deep into my soul — 
Like a gasping groan or a stifled moan 

In a death-delaying dole. 

When lo ! in letters as red as blood, 

Appeared, in every tree. 
The recorded date, October Eight, 

Of Seventeen, seventy three ! 

And what tho' I woke, '^'"°°' "'^ dream o'er the page 
Of the book that before me lay, 

October's frost makes a whipping-post 
Of the forest trees to this day.f 



* At the pai'ticular sessions, at which Brigland, 
Picket, and Masterson were found guilty and sentenced, 
Thomas Gest, Esquire, presided, though at tlie sessions 
immediately preceding and succeeding William Craw- 
ford, Esqujre, sate.as the pi'esident of the associated jus- 
tices present who composed the court. Thomas Gest 
was a son of "Bold" Christopher Gist, the guide of 
Washington — v. a., pp. 27-80. 

t Mem.— On the 23rd of February, 1775, at Fort 
Dunmore — as Fort Pitt was called by the Virginians — 
one Luke Joliff was tried for deserting from the militia 
with a stand of arms and preventing the Indians from 
returning prisoners held by them, found guilty, and 
sentenced toreceive^re /jwncZrefZZasTi^s with a cat-o'-nine- 
tails on his bare back, well laid on, at such times and in 
such manner as not to endanger life and member! This 
is the number lacking one by miscount, which General 
Daniel Morgan, the celebrated commander of the Rifle- 
men of the Revolution, is said to have received as a mil- 
itary punishment on one occasion. 



FROM POST TO PILLAR. 



— 1774 — 

FROM POST TO PILLAR. 



What a sickening, shuddering scene for a town in 
Pennsylvania! Three miserable human beings, bared 
to the waist, and cut witli every descending lash to the 
•ciuivering flesh beneath the ruptured skin, till their 
■blood flowed to the ground, and their cries of agony rent 
the air throughout the compass of the village! But such 
scenes were alas ! too common at that early day; and 
the people were enured to them and in a great degree 
rendered callous to human woe. On a freezing day" in 
January, the following year, one William Howard was 
bared at the post, and received no less than thirty-nine 
lashes, and then was made to stand one hour in the 
common pillory — from post to pillar, with a vengeance, 
and all lor larceny to which he pleaded guilty ! — Rever- 
ies of a Rambler from Greensbiirg to Hannastoum, in 1874. 

The official entry of this occurrence, in the Quarter 
Sessions Docket, of Westmoreland county, for January, 
1774, is as follows — the earliest record, by the waj', of 
the Pillory as an instrument of punishment in South- 
western Penns^'lYania: 

The King 

V 

William Howard 

Felony (true Bill) 

Deft, being arraigned pleads Guilty & Submits to 

the Court. v 

Judgment that the said William Howard be taken 
to Morrow Morning between the hours of 10 & 12 in the 
forenoon to the Public Whipping Post & there to receive 
59 Lashes on his Bare Back well laid on and then to be 
taken to the common Pillory and there to stand one 
Hour that he make Restitution of the Goods stolen <fe 
pay a fine of £ 20 to his Honour the Governor & that he 
be imprisoned for the space of six Months & that he pay 
the costs of Prosecution & stand committed until com- 
plied with. 



"Come one and all ! " the children bawl, 
And put the case in brief — 

" Come to the court and see the sport 
With Billy Howard, the thief! " 



FORT DUNMORE. 



Oh, what a day for Hannastown. 

Tho' the wind blows chilly and raw, — 
Behold the guard with the felon bared 

For the lashes of the law ! 

And what a sight for the boys and girls. 

The lashes well laid on, 
Till thirty and nine their gashing combine 

To open the flesh to the bone ! 

When, from the post to the pillory. 

The felon, red with gore, 
Is dragged, amid cheers and ribald jeers, 

And forced to stand an hour ! 

Till the blood, that oozes from out the flesh, 
Freezes, trickling from the wound, 

Into icicles, that, like tinkling bells. 
With every shudder resound ! 

Yea, one and all, come, children, come — 

Come to the village school, 
Where you must learn to teach in turn 

Your children how to rule ! 

Until the wrong shall react in right. 

And Billy Howard, the thief, 
Shall have borne not in vain his grief and pain 

For another felon's relief ! 



— 1774 — 

FORT DUNMORE. 



When Dr. John Connolly took possession of the 
abandoned Fort Pitt, in 1774, he rechristened it Fort 
Dunmore, in honor of his friend and patron, the Gov- 
ernor of Virginia, in whose right the territory of South- 
western Pennsylvania was claimed. The name, how- 
ever, never came into general use, even with the Earl 
and his partisan. It serves, here, notwithstanding, to 
introduce to the reader two persons who appear quite 
frequently in the histories of this region, Dr. Connoll.y 
and his successor John Neville: men, in the estimation 



O WICKED DR. CONNOLLY ! 79 



of the people, antipodal in their characters ; their birth- 
rights to the contrary notwithstanding, the former, a 
Pennsylvanian, being detested and despised, and the 
latter, a Virginian, respected and beloved by all. The 
exploits of the former, as detailed by the Pennsylvania 
letter-writers of the day, Devereux Smith, ^neas Mc- 
Kay, and others, are summed up in the facetious lines 
that follow the quatrain below, and represent in brief 
the civil strife between the partisans of the rival states, 
which, in the greater conflict between the Colonies and 
the Mother Country beginning in 1775, was suspended 
for the nonce, and, in effect, forever. 



The greatest good evolves from greatest evil ; 
A fellow God hath even every Devil ; 
Fort Dunmore hath its Connolly uncivil, 
And then the pink of courtesy, John Neville. 



— 1774 — 

WICKED DR. CONNOLLY! 



wicked Doctor Connolly ! 

The de'il will never get his due 
Until he gets his claws on you, 
To strip the hide from off your back, 
And roast you till your inside's black ! 

You, wicked Doctor Connolly ! 

How could you ever do so ? 

Shoot down the people's cows and hogs, 
And treat the people worse than dogs ; 
Press horses — yea, and meddle with 
The universal clan of Smith ? 

You, daring Doctor Connolly ! 

Where was your boasted chivalry — 
To point your guns at unarmed men ; 
To curse, across the mountains. Penn, 
And draw your sword in open day 
And prick the flesh of Dame McKay ? 

You, varmint of Virginia ! 



80 O' WICKED DR. CONNOLLY T 

How could jou ever do so — 

Disturb tlie peace with ulidniirht scares ^ 
Shoot at the fi'iendly Delawares ;. 
Break into houses, Fob, and steal. 
And put Westmoreland's Court io jail, 

And liberate her prisoners? 

'Tis> well the Revolution 

Came when it did to check your course^ 
And save your neck — if nothing worse 
To end the war you had in view 
Between the state that hired you, 

And your own Pennsylvania I 

wicked Doctor Connolly I 

The de'il will never get his duCj 
Until he gets his claws on you, 
To strip the hide from off your back, 
And roast you till your inside's black I 

You, varmint of Virurinia ! 



* Not to lose sif?ht of the association of South- 
western Pennsylvania with the Colonies, during the 
Revolution, through the machinations of this very Dr. 
Connolly, keeping the importance of the post at the 
head of the Ohio constantly in the mind of the British 
through the Earl of Dunmore, and of the Americans 
through Washington and others, the reader will please 
note the following citation — 

" On the 22d day of November, 1775, Connolly and two 
of his associate^, were arrested at Fredei-icktown, Mary- 
land. His connection with the British General Gage, 
and Lord Dunmore, and the whole of his plans for in- 
vading the western frontier with British troops and In- 
dians, and taking possession of Fort Pitt, were fully ex- 
posed. He was, therefore, confined, and subsequently, 
by order of Congress, for greater security, sent to Phila- 
delphia. His arrest and confinement probably broke up 
the whole scheme which he had prepared, and in 
which he was to be the controlling spirit. Con- 
nolly, after the Revolution, resided in Canada; where 
he enjoyed the confidence and liberality of the Eng- 
lish Government."— Craig. 



LOGAN. 81 

- 1774 — 

LOGAN, 



In the year 1774, the eve ot the Revolution, the his- 
tory of Southwestern Pennsylvania presents a tripartite 
interest which I shall endeavor here to present to the 
reader. First, the interest attached to the growth of 
Westmoreland county in its infancy, for the time being, 
lashed at the whippin-jc-post and stood in the pillory. 
Second, the conflict between the partisans of Virginia 
and Pennsylvania, amounting alrnost to civil war, and 
concentratingabout Fort Dunmore and Doctor Connolly. 
And third, the Indian war, popularly called Lord Dun- 
inore's war, which afTected the fi'ontier generally : the 
morning thereof being represented in the murder of 
Bald Eagle and the evening in the celebrated speech of 
Logan, the Mingo chief, delivered, through Col. John 
Gibson, to Lord Dunmore, at the close of the war, 
and here reproduced, with scarcely a transposi- 
tion, in blank verse. 

After the close of Dunmore's war, Logan — so called, 
after James Logan, a conspicuous man in the province 
of Pennsylvania in his day — became gloomy and mel- 
ancholy, and, resorting to the intoxicating cup, mani- 
fested symptoms of mental derangement. On his way 
from Detroit to Miami, he was murdered. 

With regard to the authenticity of the speech, which 
has been questioned by many, I have nothing to say be- 
yond this that I deem it a possibility ; and that is a fact 
however improbable, to a poet. Logan himself was a 
grand fact — an Indian never surpassed by any of his 
nation, for magnanimity in war, and greatness of soul 
in peace. And the speech in itself is a magnificent fact 
that has attracted the admiration of several of the 
most distinguished orators of America, and let that 
suffice: here it shall. 



A century has passed ; still, with bowed heads, 

Attentive ears, and sympathetic hearts. 

The murderers of the Mingo chief, in their 

Descendants, weep for the unhappy man, 

Who, e'er the knife cut out his heart and tongue, 

Hose, in despair, into the azure of 

Sublimity, to pass away a name — 



8'Z THE DUCKING-STOOL, 



A name immortal, while the heart of Man, 
Within the Living, lives again the Dead. 

To any white man, I appeal — If e'^er 

He entered Lu^gan's cabin hungry, and 

He gave not meat to him ; or, if he e'er 

Came cold and naked, and he clothed him not"? 

During the course of the last bloody war. 
Within his cabin, Logan sate, for peace 
An advocate. Such was his love for th' whites^ 
Tiis countrymen, when passinij^. pointing, said, 
See, Logan is the friend of the white men ! 

I even had thought to live with you — and had. 

But fir the injuries of one white man. 

The last spring, Colonel Cressap, in cold bloody 

And unprovoked, killed all the relatives 

OF L>gan, sparing not my wife and children I 

There runs a drop of Logan's blood not in 
The veins of any other living creature I 

This called f )r vengeance ! I have sought 
It: I have murdered many : I have glut 
My vengeance fully ; yet, I now rejoice 
For Logan's country at the beams of peace. 

But harbor not the thouii;ht that Logan's joy 
Is that of fear ; for Logan ne'er felt fear : 
He'd turn not on his heel to save his life. 
For who is there to mourn for Louan ? None ! 



— 1775 — 

TEU DUCKING-STOOI,. 



"The ducking-stool for Youghiogheny county was 
erected at the confluence of the Ohio and the Mononga- 
hela rivers on February 22nd, 1775.''— Creigh. That is, 
off the Point at Pittsburgh: the Allegheny river, a 
hundred years ago, being called frequently the Ohio; 
while the county of Youghiogheny, (fine of the three 



T51E DUCKING-8T00L. 



•erected in Southwestern Pennsylvania by Virginia, in 
tiie assertion of her chiim to this region,) before its ex- 
tinction in October, 1775, embraced the territory now 
included in the City of Pittsburgh. While the date in- 
timates that an immediate use for the instrument was 
required for the correction of a common scold no longer 
to be end'ured — with the usual result, as follows. 



Kesouse ! the ducking stool went down 

Into the freezing river ; 
But still the scold, though wet aud cold. 

Railed on as fast as ever ! 

Kesouse I the stool went down again-, 

Into the slush-ice splashing: 
But still the hag, with never a gag, 

Kept up her vile tongue-lashing 1 

Kesouse 1 a thiixl time, for the charm, 

Down to the very bottom • 
But worse and worse, the drab to curse 

Began with a ''Dod rot 'em ! " 

Kesouse ! — Now let the stool stay down, 
And save us further trouble ! — 

But still her tongue assailed the throng 
In every rising bubble ! 

Until the ice of Februeer 

Closed firm and fast above her, 

And in her corse, cut cut perforce, 
None can but death discover ! 

When hark! upon the cooling-board, 

The corse began to cough ! 
And then, her jaw, the first to thatv, 

Went on where she'd left off"! 

The ducking-stool, at once condemned, 

Was into kindling cut ; 
And the mouth of the scold of the days of old 

Has never since been shut. 



84 ELIZABETH SMITH. 



Except beneath the ice of death, 

To be opened sometime later, 
When the corpse on the board again is heard 

In her begotten daughter ! 

But who was thescold? Ah, hapless wight, 

No longer worry and bother ; 
But go to your home and meet your doom — 

She was your dear wife's mother ! 

— 1775 — 

ELIZABETH SMITH. 



But what were these cases of brutality and misery, 
to that of Elizabeth Smith, at which, at the mere recol- 
lection, the blood curdles and the brows contract in bit- 
ter denunciation of theflendish legal outrage? This poor 
woman was an indentured servant to James Kinlsaid. 
She was convicted of larceny, and her judgment was 
that she receive fifteen lashes on her bare back well laid 
on, that she pay a fine of fifteen shillings and five- 
pence, make restitution of the stolen goods, pay the 
costs of prosecution, and be committed to jail until the 
penalties are complied with. A woman under the lash ! 
Think of it, who can, without a boiling of his blood in 
indignation ? But this is not all. This poor woman 
was imprisoned for two years, and at the expiration of 
that period, the court decreed that she should serve her 
master two years beyond her indenture, to recompense 
him for the time she had lost in jail ! Nor is this all ; 
for it appears that, at the session of the court w,hich re- 
leased her from the confinement of the jail and resti- 
tuted her to a prolonged bondage under a heartless and 
mercenary master — at this very court, a grand inquest 
of the bodj' of the countj-, being called upon to inspect 
tlie jail, in which this unhappy woman had been im- 
prisoned for tw^ years, they, under oath, report it " not 
fit nor sufficient to confine any person in without en- 
dangering the life of any person so confined!" But 
what cared a people, who could endure the whipping at 
the public post, of a woman, naked to the waist, for her 
milder suffering however prolonged in a filthy, 
noisome, pig-sty cell, or under the roof of a bru- 
tal master? —i?ei'e?-ies of a Rambler from Greens- 
burg to Hannastown, in 1S74. 



ELIZABETH 8311X11. 85 



A transcript from the Docket of the Quarter Sessions 
of Westmoreland county, containing the record of this 
•ovitrage. is given herewith, ad verbam, ad literam — 



OCTOBER SESSIONS, 1775. 
The King 

V 

Elizabeth Smith 

Felony (true Bill) Dffendant being an-aigned 
pleads Guilty & submits to the Court. 

Judgment that the said Elizabeth Smith be taken 
this afternoon (being the eleventh instant > between the 
iiours of tlii^e & five & there to receive fifteen Lashes on 
her Bare Back well laid on, that she pay a fine of 
■eighteen shillings & five pence to his Honour the Gov- 
•ernor that slie make restitution of the Goods stolen that 
she pajs the Costs of prosecution <t stand committed 
until coinplted with. 



At a Private Sessions held at the House of Charles 
Foreman in the County of Westmoreland on the 
■eleventh day ■of October Anno Domini one thousand 
*even hundred & Seventy five before Robert Hanna, 
William Lochry, James Cavet ■&, Samuel Sloan Esquires 
Justices of the same Court. 

Upon the application of James Kinkaid to this 
Court setting forth that his servant Elizabeth Smith had 
been confined in the Gaol for Felony a considerable 
time irom his service, whereby he was put to gi-eat 
Charges & expenses and lost the labor and Serviceof the 
said Servant for a considerable time And Praying the 
Court to adjudge the said servant to serve him & his as- 
signs such reasonable time in consideration of the prem- 
ises as to the Court should seem meet^. It is considered 
by the Court and ordered that the said Servant Eliza- 
beth Smith do serve her said Master James Kinkaid and 
his assigns for the space & time of two years from and 
immediately after the expiration of her time by Inden- 
ture, in full satisfaction and recompence of the Charges, 
expenses and loss of time aforesaid. 



Westraoreld. County ss. 

We the Grand Inquest for the Body of this County 
Being Called upon by the Sheriff of the County To view 
the Gaol of this County and upon Examination we find 



86 AMERICAN INDEPENLENCE. 



the said Gaol is not sufficient to confine any Person in 
witliou^ endangering tlie lifeof any Person so confined. 
.Tosepli Beelor, foreman. 



For a thousand years, the crimes of woman 

Should be forgiven forthwith, 
To balance the wrong and the treatment inhuman, 

Meted out to Elizabeth Smith ! 



— 1775 — 

AMERICAN INDEFENDENCE. 



As soon as the news of the Battle of Lexington 
reached the head of the Ohio, the civil strife .between 
the partisans of Pennsylvania and Virginia for the pos- 
session of Southwestern Pennsylvania ceased — the peo- 
ple generally joining hands at once in opposition to the 
Mother Country : in which there is reason to believe an 
aminosity ingrown with their organisms unconsciously 
played a stronger part than found expression in their 
patriotic resolutions; for a great majority of the popu- 
lation of this county at that time were of Scottish and 
Irish descent, the subjugation of their respective coun- 
tries accordingly rankling in their blood. At the several 
meetings, held, on the 16th of May, 1775, at Hanuastown 
and Pittsburgh, the resolutions passed amounted almost 
to a declaration of independence — those passed at the 
Hannastown meeting, written, doubtless, by Arthur St. 
Clair, a few years hence to be a Major General in the 
service of the United Colonies in their assei'tion, con- 
taining the following remarkable paragraph: St. Clair, 
be it remembei-ed, being a Scotchman by birth — 

" 3d. That should our country be invaded by a for- 
eign enemy, or should troops be sent from Great Britain 
to enforce the late arbitrary acts of Parliament, we will 
cheerfully submit to military discipline, and to the ut- 
most of our power resist and oppose them, or either oZ 
them, and will coincide with any plan that may be 
formed for the defence of America in general and 
Pennsylvania in particular," 

Of the Virginians who participated in the meeting 
at Pittsburgh, William Crawford, John Neville, and 
John Gibson coriimnnc'ed Virginia regiments during 
the revolutionary war. 



THE SCALP PREMIUM. 87 



Not only rose the Colonies, 
Then to resist the injuries 
Unto them in the distance done 
By the aggressive English throne — 

But Scotland, to avenge her wrong, 
Done in the past. Lord knows how long, 
Came to the fore to be redressed. 
Rejuvenated in the Wtst ! 

And Erin, to return the blow 
Laid hard upon her long ago, 
Rose, in the remembrance of the sod. 
To seek revenge in the wild wood ! 

For, sow the seeds of good or evil, 
And, in despite of drouth and weevil, 
The germs will swell, the sprouts will shoot. 
And bending boughs will bear the fruit. 



— 1780 — 

THE SCALP PREMIUjI. 



At three several times, the governors of Pennsylva- 
nia offered rewards for the scalps of Indians, men, wo- 
men, and children : in 1756, during the French war, 
when the Indians generally were allied with the French; 
in 1764, before the close of the Indian war, known as Gay- 
asootha's or Pontiac's war; and in 1780, during the latter 
part of the Revolution when the frontier presented al- 
most daily deadly encounters between individuals and 
armies in their struggle for supremacy in the Little 
World through which runs the River of Blood — with- 
out and within. For, disguise the fact as we may, in 
our congratulatory grimaces before one another, the 
idea that has been expressed in our actions toward 
the aborigines of this continent from first to last 
has been extirpation. 

The rates offered, in 1756, were — "for the Scalp of 
every male Indian of above Twelve Years old, one 
hundred and thirty dollars, and for the Scalp of every 
Indian Woman, Fifty Dollars," as the Lieutenant Gov- 
ernor of Pennsylvania, the Honorable Robert Hunter 
Morris, declared, as reported in the Colonial Records, 



S8^ lochry's lametst 



vol. vii. pages 74-6; in 1764 — " for the Scalp of every 
Msile Indian Eneray above the age of 10 Years produced 
as evidence of their beins? killed, 13i pieces of Eight, and 
for the .Scalp of every female Indian EaerAy above the 
iiige of 1(1 Years pt-odiKjed as Evidence as afores... ,50 
pieces of Eight," as set forth in the Minutes of the Coun- 
cil, pre^icied over by the Lieutenant G-overnor, the Hon- 
orable John Penn, and reported in the Colonial Records^ 
vol. ix, page 189; while, in the depreciated currencj' of 
the Revolution, the premium offered for an Indian 
scalp rose to one thousand dollars: as the President of 
the Council, the Honorable Joseph Reed,^ stated to Col- 
onel .Samuel Hunter in these words — "The Council 
would c% do for this Purpose authorize you to offer the- 
following Premiams for every iBale Prisoner whether 
white or Indian if the former is acting ^vith the latter 
JoOO Dollars and lOO) for every Inuian Scalp," as printed 
in the Pennsylvania Archives, vol. viii, page 167. 

For the massacre of the Moravian Indians at Gna- 
denhiitten by the Whites, under Colonel David Wil- 
liamson in February,. 1782, and the horrible torture at 
the stake of Colonel William Crawford in June of the 
^anne year, let this serve as an introduction. 



What but a weaker wolf, is he, 

This skulking savage, unto ihee ? 

Go, tear hiiu ir> thy stronger teeth, 

And live the longer in his death ! 

Go, eruuch him with thy stronger jaw — 

Th« painted brave and burdened squaw ; 

Nor spare the board-bound suckling whelp — 

To save perhaps thy future scalp ! 

Go, wilder wolf; for, since the light 

Hath turned to life. Might makes the Right ! 



- 1781 — 

LOCHRY'S LAMENT. 



"Fort Pitt, December 3d, 1781. 
" Sir, I am sorry to inform your Excellency that this 
Country has got a severe stroke by the loss of Colonel 
Lochry and about one hundred (tis said) of the best 
men of Westmoreland county, including Captain 
J^tockely & his Company of Rangers. They were going 



lochry's lament. 89 



dovv^n the Ohio on General Clarke's Expedition, many 
uccounts agree that they were all killed or taken at the 
mouth of the Miame River I believe chiefly killed — this 
misfortune added to the failure of General Clarke's 
Expedition, has filled the people with great dis- 
may many talk of retiring to the East side 
of the Mountain early in the Spring."— Gen'l Wm. Ir- 
vine to the President of the Council. 

A small stream, called Lochry's creek, eleven miles 
below the mouth of the Great Miami, perpetuates the 
memory and locality of this unhappy event in many a 
household of Westmoreland. Col. Archibald Lochry 
was the prothonotai-y and lieutenant of the county, a 
man of worth and distinction. His command consisted 
of one liundred and seven men, of whom only one or 
two escaped with their lives as prisoners from the am- 
bush into which they were led on the 21th of August. 



The rain of spring in torrents fell, 

As never it fell before, 
Till the rill in the wood was a rushing flood 

With a ceaseless surging roar. 
While the woman wept in the warmth of woe 

For one of Lochry's men. 
Who went with a kiss of protracted bliss 

And never came again ! — 
Aye, the rain of spring that fell from the skies 
Was the tears '^^* gushed from the mourner's eyes. 

The hail of summer beat upon 

The fields of growing corn, 
Till all at noon was lying down 

That stood up in the morn. 
While the woman wept in the waste of woe, 

For one of Lochry's men. 
Who went to the west ^^"^ '^^ heart ^""^ her breast 

And never came again ! — 
Aye, the hail that fell from the summer skies, 
Was the tears *^^* congealed ^"^ the mourner's eyes. 

The sleet of autumn in the night 

Fell on the haunted heath, 
Till all was cold in wood and wold, 

And glazed as the eye of Death. 



9(f LEATHER BREECHE?. 

While the woman wept iii the want of woe, 

For one of Lochry's men, 
Who went with an oath and a plighted troth, 

And never came again! — 
Aye, the sleet of autumn that fell from the skies 
Was the tears that glaz.id the mourner's ejes. 

The snow of winter, albeit it fell 

From a leaden, leaden cloud, 
Was lustrously white and feathery light, 

A soft, and downy shroud. 
While the woman wept in the winter of woe 

For one of Lochry's men, 
Who went — with the life of a woe-wed wife — 

And never came again I — 
Aye, the snow of winter that fell from the skies 
Was the tears that closed the mouroer's eyes. 



— 1781 — 

LEATHER BREECHES. 



"80 ^reat was the destitution of comfortable cloth- 
ing, that when the first court of common pleas was held 
in Catfish, now Washington, [ in 1781,] a highly respecta- 
ble citizen, whose presence was required as a magis- 
trate, could not attend court without first borrowing a 
pair of leather breeches from an equally respectable 
neighbor who was summoned on the grand jury. The 
latter lent them, and having no others, had to stay at 
home.''— Rev. Joseph Smith: Old Redstone, p. 44. 



How happy the judges, when one pair of breeches 

Sufficeth two lawyers to wear — 
Dividing in twain the risks for long speeches, 

And doubling the chances for prayer \ 



— 1782 — 

THE OMINOUS FOX. 

Prophetic of the fate of the Expedition against San- 
dusky, in 1782, under the command of Colonel William 



MALLET OF GNALENHUTTEN. 91 



Crawford — the first presiding judge of the courts of 
Westmoreland county, as has been noted — the follow- 
ing incident affects the mind of the reader at this late 
■day, possibly even more than it did the soldiers who 
participated in it: for while the hitter beheld in it thp 
possibility of defeat, the former, apprised of the result, 
realizes the horrible fa-ct. 

"A trivial incident occurred during the march, 
which made an unfavorable impression upon the mind« 
of those superstitiously inclined. A fox, by some 
means, got iJito the lines, was surrounded by the men, 
but managed to escape unhurt. 'This,' reasoned th-e 
credulous in signs and omens. * portends a failure ; for if 
the whole army is unable to kill a fox under such cir- 
cumstances, what success can be expected against In- 
dians.' ''— Recollections of Philip fimitK 

Aye, well the army may shudder m dread, 

At the bootless chase of the fox so red ; 

For who will escape with the scalp on his head, 

Should the Red fox surround the army instead */ 



— 17S2 — 

THE MALLET OF GXADENHUTTEN. 



Breathing the spirit of the Scalp Law, in 1782, an ex- 
pedition, from Southwestern Pennsylvania, under the 
command of Col. David Williamson, set out, ostensibly 
to break up the villages of the hostile Indians on the 
Sandusky; but a majority of the lawless men from the 
frontier converted erelong the little army into a band of 
assassins the record of wh-ose butcheries, summed up ii\ 
the Mallet of Gnadenhiitten, is the foulest blot upon the 
bloody page of the early history of this region — the 
fountain-head of the River of Blood in appalling reality. 
In their course lay the villages of the Moravian con- 
verts to Christianity, on the Muskingum. Where, hav- 
ing arrived without creating an alarm, they entrapped 
iiinet3^-six men. women, and children into two houses, 
and deliberately butchered them as they might have 
killed a pack of wolves in a pen : one of the murderers 
taking up a cooper's mallet and knocking the heads of 
the old and the young, until he had killed fourteen, 
when, his arm failing him, he handed the weapon of 
death to a companion, with a word of encouragement, 
in God's name, to go and do likewise \ 



92 MALLET OF GNADENHL'TTEX. 



For further particulars concerning the massacre — 
or ratlier for an admirable history of the Moravians in 
Southwestern Pennsylvania — their arrival from the 
Place of Hogs on the upper Allegheny and their sojourn 
at Friedenstadt, or the Village of Peace, on the Big Bea- 
ver, until their departui-e for the scene eventually of 
their slaughter at Gnadenhutten,— I take pleasure in 
referring the reader to the elegant and accurate little 
book, entitled Black Robes, of my worthy friend 
Robert P. Nevin, Esq., of Pittsburgh. The several 
results of the massacre, alluded to in the last 
lines of the following poem, are set forth at greater 
length in succeeding pages. 



What stains are these on this mallet-head — 
These blacks and browns above blotches of red ? 

They are the stains of human blood — 
They are the clots of the vital flood 
That flowed in the hearts of the happy and good. 
Who fell beneath this weapon of death, 
The Mallet of Gnadenhutten ! 

Whose hairs are these of various hue, 
Entangled and stuck in this ghastly glue ? 

They are the hairs of the youth and old age — 
The silken suckling — the silvered sage — 
And the mothers who knelt in their gory cage 
In vain beneath this weapon of death, 
The Mallet of Gnadenhutten ! 



Whose bones are these wedged into the wood. 
Like ivory grains in this ebony blood ? 

They are of the skulls of those bared to be 

crushed — 
They are of the skulls of those hid to be hushed — 
Of the many who into eternity rushed, 
When they fell beneath this weapon of death. 
The Mallet of Gnaddenhiitten ! 

But what is this — this grayish band 

That girdles the helve for the width of a hand ? 



GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. 93 

It is the stain of the murderer's grip. 

When, in G-od's name he cried, with a blasphe- 
mous lip, 

Let not this blest opportunity slip — 

While I gasp for breath, take this weapon of 
death, 
The Mallet of Gnad^nhiitten \ 

And this — what is this inburnt brand 
That extends from the poll to the stain of the 
hand ? 

It is of the fire by the f(;ur winds blown, 

Till the flame-girdled stake ended Crawford's re- 
nown, 

And the torch turned to ashes and smoke Han- 
nastown ! 

Aye, the curse of Cain is in every stain 
Of the Mallet of Gnadenhiitten ! 



— 1782 — 

SIMON GIRTY TO COL. CRAWFORD 
AT THE STAKE, 



The details, in the following poem, of the horrible 
torture of Colonel William Crawford, are given in the 
sequence reported by Dr. Knight, an eye-witness, with 
but few and minor transpositions to lead with greater 
precision from the beginning to the end — horror upon 
horror's head accumulating unto the last. For the full 
particulars of the expedition, and the most complete 
biographies of Crawford aud Girly, the reader is referred 
to tlie admirable monograph of Mr. Butterfield. With 
respect to the tradition, however, which I make use of 
here, namely, that, the secret of Girty's superintend- 
ence of the torture of his quondam friend, was the re- 
fusal of the hand of his beautiful daughter, Sarah, I 
may say, that, notwithstanding it appears "silly" to 
the grave and venerable hi>;torian, my honorable friend. 
Judge Veech, it is neither impossible nor improbable to 
a ranriom rhymer, particularly, when vouched for as a 
verity by a descendant of Crawford, Judge McCoi- 
mick, of Connellsville. 



9i GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. 

You say I am accursed. I am accursed. 

Of all the damned on earth, I am the worst.* 

And it is well I am, that you receive 
Your just deserts which only I can give. 

Compared with me, the Deleware is tame — 
A suckling wolf — a savage but in name. 

The great is grown alone within the great ; 
A Grirty can alone the White create. f 

The Deleware had killed you at a blow ; 
But I despise his mercy — and am slow ! 

Speed seldom makes a single wise reflection, 
While Haste is very careless in selection. 

You are within yourself a brother man, 
Or good or bad, as but a brother can. 

But in this pastime you will play the Good, 
And I the Evil, of the White Man's blood. 

You, naked as at birth, bound with a thong. 
Will symbolize the Right enthralled by Wrong. 

While I, in savage guise, will play my part, 
The unseen Savage of the White Man's heart. 

Nay, friend ; your role is easy — While I speak, 
'Tis but to writhe in pain about a stake. 

Your face is blacked, with that of others here, 
That in your fate your own may now appear. 

Behold ! the tomahawk sinks in the brain 
Of all so marked — The inference is plain. 

Nay, shudder not and shriek. All men must die. 
You are not an exception — nor am I. 

But you, the chieftain of these slaughtered men. 
Are blessed above them all — in knowing when. 

That in anticipation you may feel, 

A thousand times, the keen-edged butchering steel. 

What ! groan beneath the blows, of feeble squaws 
And feebler children, with their scourge of straws ! 



GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. 95 

It is my care and kindness that the small 
Be given first that you endure — the all ! 

Besides, these squaws and children will remind 
You of your wife and children left behind — 

To look for your return — to mope and muse — 
And mourn your death with every breath of news. 

Until, perchance, the midnight axe descend — 
Of widow's wail and orphan's woe, an end ! 

Until, perchance, the Gnadenhiitten Maul 
Tires not, till it has crushed the skulls of all. 

Nay, shudder not and fall upon your knees — 
I'll change the subject, since it doth not please. 

Behold the stake ! and this rope round the post, 
To keep you in position — while you roast. 

And these encircling faggots, as you turn, 

To roast you through ^'^^ ^^'^^'^^^ — before you burn. 

Yea ; Simon Grirty has pronounced your doom ; 
The ashes of this wood shall be your tomb ! 

WiQ-gay-nund ? Yea ; *^^ chief ^^' eat ^°''' bread — 
Beg him to save your life? He shakes his head ! 

Now, while the squaws and children fire the wood> 
Consider what the PipeJ speaks to his brood. 

And since the Redman's tongue you cannot hear, 
And understand, I'll be to you an ear.|| 



"Upon this man, the chieftain of our foes, 
Let each and ail of us avenge our woes. 

'• For all the wrongs to us the Whites have done, 
Let now their chieftain in himself atone. 

" For he is as an army, though but one — 
As to the stars at noonday, is the sun. 

•'All cast in him, by the Great Manito, 
That we may kill an army at a blow. 

'• All cast in him by the Great Spirit of Good, 



96 GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. 

Thai we may driok at once an army's blood ! 

" That each and all of us may say, ' My koife 
Has taken a great English array's life I 

"'Behold this unwiped stain upon the blade — 
This Colonel Crawford's ebbing lifers blood made V 

"Then let an array e'er invade our land, 
Alone, each one of us, may make a stand. 

"For we are each an array in the wood, 
When we have each drank of an army's blood. 

'Strike, one ^""^ all, then, "'"^ the knife-blade's tip, 
That all alike may in the warm blood dip ! 

"That all may kill in all — not all in one ; 
And he an army's death die, though alone. 

" That all may kill in all — not all for one ; 
That he atone for all the Whites have done. 

" Glut, glut ^°^~^ vengeance, now ! Strike, """^ '^""^ all ! 
Hemember Gnadenhiitten's murderous Maul ! § 

" The White Man's army's '° ^^^ Redman's gripe — 
Obey the words of the avenging Pipe !" 



What ! cut """"^ gnashed ^°'* slashed from top to toe ! 
Well, do not moan — I said, it would be so. 

Yea ; I am sure ; for I was filled with fear, 
Lest, when your ears were off, you might not hear. 

And now — Yea, there is nothing half so good 
As a live coal for quickly staunching blood. 

What, groan again ? Why, man, your flesh is hard, 
And callous to the brand, it is so charred. 

I doubt if y°" could feel — (Yea, fire !) — the wad 
Of any musket here, at half a rod, 

(Go on — go on — go on ! He'll stand a score 
Of pops like those, and still cry out for more ! ) 

What, shoot >'°" *'^™"2^ '^^ heart, I ? — Simon Girty ? 
To think that I could do an act so dirty ! 



GIRTY TO CRAWFORD. 97 

Oh, no ! Besides, you see, I have no gun ; 
And could not, if I would, stop this rare fun ! 

But since you beg me still to take a part, 

With words, '^"^ wads, I'll shoot y" *^'^<'"8ii t^g heart ! 

Nay, sink not to the ground upon your knees, 
To raise the ashes but to make you sneeze. 

And call not on your God to do what I — 
The devil — would not do to make you die ! 

The sky is clear — You need not look for rain : 
And for the thunderbolt, you pray in vain !^ 

Nay, courage, friend ; this fainting is not death ; 
The gases of the coals but take your breath. 

(Quick ! "^^^ the scalping-knife, *""* bare his skull ! 
Before his chest with the foul gas is full ! ) 

Why, man, y°" are ''^^ dead ! Stand up ! there I ho ! 
And walk around your stake — there ! steady ! so ! 

But how you bleed ! (Quick ! with a cap of fire, 
And clap it on his head, ere he expire ! ) 

Hurrah ! that jump is worth a thousand groans ! 
And that sharp shriek a myriad of moans ! 

But why — why do you stand and stare at me, 
As if you knew me not — in mockery ? 

I'm sure, I have not changed from worse to worst, 
Since we began ; for I set out accursed. 

But y"^ are changed «°'°«^''»t — y"*' features marred — 
A scorched skull staring on a corpse half charred ! 

Still, you are William Crawford, Esquire, Judge, 
Or Colonel, as they style you, while you budge. 

But sink not to the earth again, my friend, 
Lest to this conference, there be an end. 

Nay, close your eyes not ! See me kneel again, 
Before your daughter's feet, and kneel in vain ! 

Nay, close your ears not ! Hear my vow once more, 
And her refusal as in days of yore ! 



^S GIRTY TO €KAWFORI>, 



Oh, close your eyes not, till you see me spurned^ 
And from your cabin like a leper turned ! 

Oh, close your ears not, till you hear again 
Your curse that maddened then as now my brain I 

I loved ?""'' dauijhter — Mark 1 — till I ^^' driveD 
From her — ^""'^' earth — ''"'^ every hope of heaven I 

I love your daughter still, though I, accursed, 
Am, of the fiends of hell, the first and worst ! 

I luve your daughter, S.irah Crawford, still ; 
And, (it her name, uiy vengeance cannot kill ! 

Speak ! speak ! Her hand's within your own again, 
For Harrison is numbered with the slain. 

Speak ! speak ! Her hand ! And you shall live I 
Speak ! speak ! before it is too late to give ! 

To late to Hold 1 Save, Girty, save thy breath ; 

For Crawford's ears are closed for aye in death ! 

(xreat God, I curse thee, and thy love I loath, 
For Thou'st denied my prayer and kept my oath I 

Thou hast denied my love, and, when loo late. 
Fulfilled my vow of vengeance and of hate ! 

In ''''' black, ugly thing ! — ^^'^ steaming flesh ! — 
This sickening stench ! — ^^'" smouldering j^hapeless ash ! 

This act — to live within the brain of Man, 
Till he hath made an end where he began.** 

* " No other country or age ever protluced, perhaps, 
so brutal, depraved, and wicked a wretch as Simon Girty . 
He was sagacious and brave; but his sagacity and bra- 
very only made him a greater monster of cruelty. All 
of Die vices of civilization seemed to centre in him, and 
by him were ingrafted upon those of the savage state, 
without the usual redeeming qualities of either. He 
moved about through the Indian country during the 
war of the Revolution and the Indian war which fol- 
lowed, a dark whirlwind of fury, desperation, and bar- 
barity. In the refinements of torture inflicted on help- 
less prisoners, as compared with the Indians, he *out- 
Heroded Herod.' In treachery, he stood unri- 
valed."— BUTTERFIELD. 



OIRTY TO Oil AW FORD. 9 J) 



t In this crimination of the white.«, however I do 
not exculpate the Indians. By no means; they were -i^ 
treacherous, as bloodthirsty, and as unchristian as sa%- 
ages could be, cruel, remoi-seless and brutal- but I do 
meantosay that in a contest that aroused the uHie^t 
passions in the human breast, the race that was the 
higher could fall the lower; Iheracethat had the greater 
cunning, contrivance, skili, and determination to con- 
quer by fair means or foul made use of its power- the 
race that in girdling the globe never did and never 'will 
hesitate to trample a weaker beneath the iron heel oi 
rts victorious tread, did not balk at slaughtering sava-es 
but one remove from wolves. And however correct and 
just in the main, no man can state that in part ^nd iu 
particular the White race was not the ultimate 
of evil and the acme of injustice in its conflict 
for dominion and existence with the Red.- Reveries o( 
a Rambler^ in 187 i. 

t "Captain Pipe was, in many respects, a remarka- 
ble savage. * * * As the army of Crawford approached 
the Sandusky, nowhere upon that stream was to be 
found an enemy more determined than he. * * * Upon 
this Captain Pipe made a speech to the Indians, who at 
Its conclusion, yelled a hideous and hearty assent^ to 
what had been said,"- Butterfield. What he said in 
this speech, however, has not been reported; and what 
IS given here, is accordingly imaginary, but in accord- 
ance with the Indian's ideas of warfare, as given bv 
Post, McCullough, and James Smith. 

II An interpreter, in the expressive language of the 
Indians. 

§ "Both he [Slover, who with Dr. Knight were the 
only prisoners who escaped with their lives,] and the 
Doctor say they were assured by several Indians whom 
they formerly knew, that not a single soul should in 
future escape torture, and gave as a reason for this con- 
duct the Moravian affair.'- Irvine to Washington, Fort 
Pitt, nth July, 1782. 

1[ " I was tied to the post, as I have already said and 
the flame was now kindled. The day was clear, not a 
cloud to be seen : if there were clouds low in the hori- 
zon, the sides of the house prevented me from seeing 
them, but I heard no thunder, nor observed any sign of 
approaching rain. Just as the fire on one pile began to 
blaze the wind * * * * blew a hurricane, and the 
lain followed in less than three minutes. The rain fell 
violently ; and the fire, though it began to blaze con- 
siderably, was instantly extinguished. The rain lasted 
about a quarter of an hour.' - ^(over^, JS^wrrative. Kept 



100 SARAH HARRISON. 

/ ~ 

overnight, for "a whole day's frolic in roasting him," 
Slover escaped lo tell his tale. 

** "Thus ended this disastrous campaign. It was 
the last one which took place in this section of the 
country during the war of the revolution. It was un- 
dertaken with the very worst views — those of murder 
and plunder. It was conducted without sufficient 
means to encounter, with any prospect of success, the 
large Indian forces upon the plains of Sandusky. There 
was not that subordination and discipline which is al- 
ways necessary to success ; and it ended in total dis- 
comfiture, and an awful sacrifice of life. Never did any 
enterprise more signally fail, and never was a deed of 
blood more terribly revenged, than the murder of the 
Christian Indians at the Moravian towns."— Rupp. 



— 1782 — 

Sarah Harrison 



" Crawford's children were all married and living in 
the neighborhood of his home [ on the left bank of the 
Youghiogheny, i. e. the Ohio-gheny, or the River of 
Blood, at the lower end of the town of New Haven.] 
Sarah, the eldest, was the wife of William Harrison, a 
man of great spirit and distinction [ killed in the battle 
which terminated the expedition against Sandusky, 
commanded by Crawford]. They had six children — 
Sally, Nancy, Harriet, Battell, .John, and Polly. Sarah 
Harrison, the mother, when young was a girl of great 
beauty. Traditions of her splendid features still linger 
by the rippling waters of the Youghiogheny. ' It has 
often been said,' writes a former resident of Fayette 
county, [Robert A. Sherrard,] 'that Sally Craw- 
ford, when she married William Harrison, was 
the most beautiful young lady in all that part of 
the country.' "— Butterfield. 



How blest was the hour 
When she entered her bower — 
Her bower of love in the wild, wild wood ; 
While the beautiful river 
Rippled on — and forever ! — 
But alas ! to deceive her ! — 

With her joy in its flood ! 



THE HEROINE OF HANNASTOWN. 101 

And how bright was the day, 
When, in battle array, 
Her hero among the first stood ; 
While the mirroring river 
Reflected the quiver 
Of pride and the fever 

Of love, in its flood I 

But black was the night, 
When a voice in afi'right 
Foretold his sad fate, in the wood ; 
While the sad-sobbing river 
In vain to relieve her 
Repeated forever 

Her wail, in its flood ! 

And doubly accursed 
That moment, when burst 
The storrn-cloud above the wild wood ; 
While the thunder resounded, 
With her shrieking confounded, « 
And the lightning compounded 
Her tears and his blood ! 

When her Heaven of Love 
Flit far, far above 
The bower she built in the wild, wild wood, 
Where the earth hath a river 
That flows on forever 
To the Gulf of the Giver — 
The River of Blood ! 



— 1782 — 

TBE HEROINE OF HANNASTOWN. 



On Saturday, at two o'clock in the afternoon. July 
13th, 1782, the hamlet of Hannastown, consisting of 
about thirty cabins and houses and the fort, or block- 
house, was attacked by a band of Indians and Tories or 
whites acting with the Indians ("one hundred whites 
and blacks," writes Michael Huffnagle, and than whom, 
who has reported aught about the aflTair that is entitled 



102 THE FATE OF MARMIE. 



to more credence?) and. in a short time reduced to 
ashes— every building being consumed with the excep- 
tion of the fort and two houses ( writes David Duncan 
to Mr. Cunningham, Member of the Council from Lan- 
caster, at that time). The same afternoon, by a detach- 
ment of the band of savages, the small fort called Mil- 
ler's, about three miles distant toward the south (on the 
Miller farm, two miles east of Greensburg, on the Stoys- 
town pike,) was taken ( Duncan ) and reduced to ashes 
(Huffnagle). About twenty (says Huffnagle, while 
Duncan says, upwards of twenty) of the inhabitants of 
Hannastown and Fort Miller, and the neighbofhood 
surrounding, were killed or taken prisoners, " the most 
of whom were women and children.' And about a 
a hundred head of cattle, and a number of horses and 
hogs, were shot down as they ran to and tro in the ex- 
citement.— Reveries of a Rambler, in 1871. 

"At the time Hannastown was bui-ned by the In- 
dians, my sister Jane was going to school there, but es- 
caped to the fort with her uncle James Brison. She saw 
poor tender-hearted Margaret Shaw stoop to pick up the 
little child that had crept to the hole in the door, and 
she saw her fall a victim to the noblest impulse in the 
human|heart, by a ball in the breast at the moment she 
took up the child."— Recollections of James B. Oliver. 



Thy fate, poor Peggy, was the common, 
Of foud and sympathetic woDJan : 
To stoop to save ; to rise distressed, 
A savage bullet in thy breast ! 

— 1790 — 

THE FATE OF MARMIE. 



On the First day of November, 1790, the first iron 
furnace, erected in the valley of the Mississippi, of 
which there is an authentic record, went into blast — or 
was blown-in, to use the language of the ironmaster. 
This was the Alliance Furnace, of TurnbuU & Marmie, 
situated two and a half miles above the mouth of 
Jacob's Creek, a confluent of the Youghiogheny, The 
stack is still standing, but in ruins — the most impres- 
sive and picturesque of the ancient structures of South- 
western Pennsylvania, concealed in a forest of seventy - 
five years' growth, and the scene of many a 



THE FATE OF M^RMIE. 103 

strange story among the wilds of Barren Run: 
one of which recounting the fate of Marmie, is 
given in the following poem. 

Peter Marmie (who, with William Turnbull, a 
wealthy man of Philadelphia, and John Holkar, the 
French naval agent at that post, composed the firm of 
Turnbull & Marmie,) was a Frenchman, a high liver, a 
great hunter, and an enthusiastic and impetuous man 
in everything in which he engaged. In 1793, the firm 
dissolving, he was left alone with the works — 
according to the legend, to go on from bad to 
worse, until, in despair, he terminated his exist- 
ence as recited in the poem. 

For the facts about this old furnace and the firm — 
with never a word about the fate of Marmie, however, — 
I take pleasure in referring the reader to the recent pub- 
lication of the Seci'etary of the American Iron and Steel 
Association, my esteemed friend and coadjutor, 
James M. Swank, Esq., to wit, his Introduc- 
tion to a History of Iro«making and Coal 
Mining in Pennsylvania, published in 1878. 



Like a grim volcano, stands the 

Furnace of my rambling rhyme — 

Stands the furnace of the Frenchman, 
Marmie, of the olden time. 

Roaring in its glazed boshes 

With forebodings dire and dread ; 

Belching flamelit smoke from out the 
Crater of its tunnel-head ! 

Till anon the molten metal 

From the hollow mountain breaks — 
Rushing down into the valley 

Floods of fire to lava lakes ! 

When, upon the sloping gangway 
Leading to the tunnel-head — 

To the grim volcano's crater 

Belching smoke in black and red ! — 

See ascending, lo ! the Frenchman, 
Marmie, with his hounds and horn - 

Like a hunter of the wildwood. 
At the breakins: of the morn ! 



104 *ST. CLAIR. 



To the quarry of this crater, 
With a hunter's heated blood, 

What wild beast that roams the forest, 
Hath he through the night pursued ? 

Christ behold ! the dogs in couples 

Doth he in the crater cast, 
Till alone on the volcano, 

Hark ! he winds a merry blast ! 

Tirr-ill irr-ill larry o-hee I — 

Why that gleaming, curling wreath 

Of the smoke above the crater ? 
In is Marmie at the death I 

In is Marmie, like a hunter, 

At the death of what wild beast ? 

What but that pursued at midnight 
To the quarry io his brfeast ! 

Like a grim volcano, stands the 
Furnace in the darkened dell, 

Where the ironmaster hunter, 
Marmie, wound his horn in hell ! 

But the fire do longer rages 

In the hollow, glazed womb, 

And the mantling mould of ages 
Creeps upon the furnace tomb. 

Silent as the bat-winged cavern, 

Till the wind sweeps through the dell, 

When the hunter, on the hillside. 
Hears the Frenchman's horn in hell ! 



— 1791 — 

ST. CLAIR. 



Arthur St. Clair was a Major General in the United 
States army during the Revolution. After a long life of 
honor in both military and civil service, in his old age, 
he was hounded by the humiliations of a nation's curse, 
and the ingratitude of a republic, till, seeliing a refuge 



ST. CLAIR. 105 



from the voice of his fellow-man, he fled to the wilder- 
ness of a mountain-top, where he ended his days in de- 
spair. The event which brought down upon him, and 
most undeservingly, the odium and maledictions of the 
people, was the most disastrous defent of the expedition 
of 1791, under his command — a defeat unparalleled, save 
by that of Braddock. for slaughter, and fraught with 
the most evil of conseauences to the United States at 
that time. On a tributary of the Wabash, in the present 
state of Ohio, he was met by the Indians, under the 
leadership of a chief of the Mississago tribe, and routed, 
with a loss in killed and missing of two-thirds of his 
army. This damned him through life. Even Washing- 
ton, who had the most unbounded trust and confidence 
in him as a brave and determined soldier, could not re- 
frain from severe and bitter imprecation. The old man , 
stung to the heart, secured with the remnant of his 
shattered fortune, a piece of land on the Chestnut Ridge, 
above Youngstown, in Westmoreland county, and thith- 
er he fled, and remained till he died — a broken hearted 
man, given to drink in his gloom, but proud and 
haughty to the last. Toasted at a militia muster as the 
"Brave but unfortunate 8t. Clair," he drew his sword 
in an instant, and would have slain the offender, Find- 
ley, the first Congressman of Westmoreland, had the 
words not been retracted: he was not to be compli - 
mented and commiserated in a breath; not he, indeed, 
whose achievements in the service of England and 
America, in peace and in war, were deserving of glory 
without a compromising stain! His ashes rest in the 
cemetery which bears his name in Greensburg, beneath 
a sandstone monument, erected, as a bitter taunt there- 
on asserts, "to supply tlie place of a noble one, 
due from his country." 

" As to the case of St. Clair," said Mr. Ogle, of Som- 
erset, in 1817, in the House of Representatives, upon the 
application of the poor old soldier for a pittance from 
the government — a pittance refused him, until it was 
too late — " that is a subject which ought not to be men- 
tioned in this House in the face of day — the treat- 
ment of that man ought to be spoken of here 
only in the night!" 



When the following poem was written in 1874, it was 
sent to Mr. J. Newton Gotthold, with the following 
note, which, witli the poem, the accomplished actor and 
elocutionist has brought before the public already in 
his readings on the stage — 



lOG ST. CLAIR. 



I send you a Poem —"St. Clair," If there is becom- 
ing body, put your life in it; if there is comprehending 
sense, put your soul in it; and as you love Honor and 
the Pride that guards it as^ an impulse to the greatest 
good in man and a tower of strength to the Nation,, 
make this humble efTort a mighty to teach a people, un- 
grateful to itself in its history, to revere instead of ig- 
noring the brave and proud old soldier, St. Clair; that 
honored fathers may then die without dread, lest theii- 
s-kuUs, passing from their shoulders to the hands of 
their children, may not descend still lower to the feet 
of their children's children and be kicked about 
as foot-balls for pastime. 



Alone in t:be primeval wood, 

Upon a mountain's ragged orest, 

The proud and brave old soldier stood, 
And watched the sun sink in the west. 

Before him lay Westmoreland's wealth, 
Empurpled with the evenin(>;'s blaze ; 

Her hills like gluwino; cheeks of health, 
Her vales vast depths of ruddy haze. 

And at his feet a burning stream, 
The limpid Loyalbanna sped, 

Kefiecting back the fiery gleam, 
And flaming crimson over head. 

His brow was black with sullen thought, 
His eye was fixed and glazed and dira,- 

Ah, would to Grod they were forgot, 
The memories that haunted him ! 

For as the gleaming sun went down, 
Beneath the flaming crimson sky, 

A flush commingled with his frown, 
And fire flashed from his staring eye. 



The while a shudder seized his heart. 
And chilled its quiv'ring ebbing flood 

He saw another sun depart, 

vSink in the west in human blood ! 



ST. CLAIR. 10'; 



He saw another sun — St. Clair ! — 
The glory of an ancient name 

That gleamed, a blazon bright and fair, 
In England's firmament of fame ; 

He saw another sun — St. Clair ! — 
The honor that had brightly shone, 

Undimned in lustre by the glare, 

When side by side with Washington ; 

He saw another sun — his own ! — 
Sink in the west in human gore, 

In woe and misery go down, 
To rise again, ah, nevermore! 

Accursed the day when Victory 
Assumed the red Miami's plume, 

And hurled his tomahawk on high. 
Exultant over St. Clair's doom ! 

When Yengeauce knew but savage bound, 
And Carnage glut its soul with blood : 

Till, springing from each gaping wound, 
The Wabash ran a reddened flood ! 

When following in Defeat's red path, 
Stalked Infamy with flaming breath, 

To fire a nation's eager wrath, 

And damn St. Clair to all save death ! 

Accursed this day, November Four, 

Returning as in Ninety-one, 
When western skies are red with gore, 

And sets in blood a double sun \ 

The old man closed his staring eye, 
To hide the scene, but ail in vain — 

The vision was not in the sky, 

But seared within his troubled brain. 

The gloaming came ; a panther's scream 
Rang from the oak above his head ; 

He looked again — the sun's last beam 
Athwart th^ crimson heavens spread. 



108 ST. CLAIR, 



A deathwhoop echoes in the cry ; 

A knife gleams in the flashing ray ; 
A bleeding scalp is in the sky ; 

The Night has slain the pale-face Day ! 

Ah, woe the man, whose history 

Reveals to him both sound and sight ; 

Whose glory's in a bloody sky, 

Whose doom is in the blackest night ! 

The darkness came ; the panther's scream 
Again rang through the lonely wood ; 

The old man startled in his dream, 
And trembled in his sullen mood. 

He startled not at the dread beast 
Heard in the wild affrighted air, 

But at the brute within his breast, 

That Fate ''=*<^ chained ='°'^ kenneled there — 

A hound, with fang-envenomed jaw, 
Sired by an ingrate nation's curse — 

A hound, with an insatiate maw, 

Engorged by pride, its dam and nurse — 

A hound that barked with human tongue, 
In taunt or toast, in praise or blame — 

A hound that bit in old and young, 
In ban or blessing, fume or fame — 

A hound that in the panther's cry, 
So like the human voice of pain. 

Pierced through his ear, an agony 
That rent his very soul in twain ! 

The old man sank upon the sjround, 

In abject anguish and despair ; 
The wilderness he peopled found — 

The wail of woe — his curse ! — '^^^ there ! 

Nor ever rose, save in the night. 
To grope for an unhallowed cell. 

Where, from the voice of man he might 
A refuse find in heaven or hell ! 



ST. CLAIR. lOd 



God help the man of evirdule. 

By guilt, or pride brought to despair. 

Till iiiem'ry's mad- dog gnaws his soul — 
God help the brave but proud St. Clair!* 



* So much for fiction, in comparison with the fact, to 
sink into commonplace, mayhap contempt. Since wri- 
ting the poem, in wliich the fate of St, Clair is represent- 
•ed in images and symbols, I have learned that a real 
damnation for the present and future pursued him up- 
on the mountain's crest. In contemplation of which the 
man is without feeling who does not shudder. The wife 
of St. Clair, in her old age, became insane, and wan- 
dered about on the mountain a jabbering maniac, now 
bedecking herself with ferns and flowers, and anon 
sliriekiug in affright in a clump of hiurel whither she 
had fled to escape a terror of her diseased imagination. 
His children more or less partook of the mental de- 
rangement of their mother — one, a son named Mur- 
ray, a wretch so perverted in his humanity as to whip 
with a harness trace his aged father when he would 
come home from the tavern, at the foot of the mountain, 
drunkand unruly ! Now, in a wife to a husband, the 
one-half of mankind is represented as the present; 
while in his descendants, humanity as a whole, the 
future forever. In this light, instead of the scream of 
the imaginary panther, hear the shriek of his crazy wife 
ringing forever in the ears of the distracted old man ; 
and instead of the symbolic hound. 

Sired by an ingrate nation's curse, 
see his own son, with the leather trace uplifted above 
his head, pursue the hoary -headed hero from tree to 
tree — until the lash descends, and the doubly-damned 
old man sinks to the earth to rise no more ! I doubt if 
history furnishes a more appalling illustration of the 
ingratitude of a republic than that which was embod- 
ied in his wife and son to St. Clair in his old age. In 
comparison, the fate of Belisarius, celebrated for 
centuries, is tame. 

In the Appendix to this volume, the curious reader 
will find the old ballad of St. Clair's Defeat which is 
sung occasionally at this day. Three quarters of a 
centurj^ ago it was very popular with the wandering 
minstrels of the Little World, the blind old fiddlers who 
appeared at the militia musters, the fairs, the 
raisings, and upon election days. Also, seversil 
poems, besides, pertaining to this memorable man 
and his misfortunes. 



110 THE HAUNTED MAN. 



— 1792 — 

THE HAUNTED MAS 



Reference has been made in this work to the several 
forts constructed in the crutch lormed bj the Allegheny 
and Monongahela rivers at their confluence, namely, 
the fort, in process of construction, surrendered by En- 
sign Ward to Con trecoeur; Fort Duquesue, built by the 
French and blown up upon the approach of Forbes; 
Fort Pitt, abandoned by order of Ueneral Gage in 1772 ; 
and Fort Dunmore, the last mentioned, i-e-christened 
by Dr. Connolly and occupied first by troops irom Vir- 
ginia and afterward by soldiers of the devolution. 
There remains another to be noted, Fort La Fayetle, 
constructed in 1792 — and in connection therewith a 
word about The Haunted Man.. 

While the army of General Wayne was rendezvous- 
ing at the place and time hibt mentioned, desertions 
were very frequent, calling loudly for the execution of 
the orders of Mad Anthony for their prevention. Now, 
among the deserters was an orderly sergeant, named 
Trotter, who, in the neighborhood of Hannastown, was 
captured by three men, Col. iiobert Hunter, Capt. Wil- 
liam Elliott, and John Horrell, and remanded to the 
lort. lie was sentenced to be shot, and, in despite of 
the most earnest eft'orts made for a mitigation or a sus- 
pension of his sentence — he being a great favorite in the 
army, standing high in the estimation of Wayne, and 
proving conclusively that he was on his way back to the 
fort when he was taken as a deserter — he was executed 
accordingly. Before the command to fire was given, how- 
ever, the condemned man imprecated vengeance from 
the Almighty upon the heads of his captors, reading the 
terrible maledictions contained in the one hundred and 
ninth psalm to begin with, and concluding with a spe- 
cific curse for each — variously given by various legends, 
but in all cases fulfilled to the letter. In the following 
poem, I give the most familiar of the stories told of Col- 
onel Hunter, who, of the three, was the most notorious 
in Southwestern Pennsylvania, his fate a terror to the 
betrayer in many a thrilling and mysterious fireside 
tale. He died of diabetes in an extraordinary form — 
of course, in accordance with his curse, that his thirst 
might never be quenched. And that he liven, from the 
execution of Trotter to the day of his death, a miserable 
life, is not to be wondered at: for, bearing in his strange 
and inexplicable disease for many years the brand of 



THE HAUNTED MAN. Ill 



his condemnation to the torments of hell before death, 
he was spurned by his fellowman without in proportion 
as he suffered from his disease within. He died in 
Bairdstown, Westmoreland county, within the recollec- 
tion of many persons still living .who knew him well. 
The dog at his heels continually is a curious form of a 
pursuing Nemesis, to say the least of it. 

John Horrell resided in Loj'alhanna township, 
Westmoreland county. And that he was possessed with 
tormenting devils, is a mntter of record in the courts — 
his last will and testament having been contested on 
the grounds'of insanity. According to the legends in 
vogue among the people, his delusion was distracting to 
him at times. At midnight, as certainly as midnight 
came, he seemed to be — or he was thrown out of bed, 
and held, on his back upon the floor, for a certain time, 
the while the devil looked over the headboard of the 
bed at him, his eyes like live coals in the wind, and his 
teeth in his open jaws like the tines of a harrow ! At 
length he was thrown from a horse and killed, his horse 
taking fright at the devil who appeared in the form of a 
white goose that flew across the road, fanning with its 
wings the fumes of sulphur in the distended nostrils of 
the animal! This goose was the familiar fiend 
that haunted Horrell. 

Capt. William Elliot resided for a long time in New 
Alexandria, Westmoreland county; removing thence 
to Butler county, he died — haunted to the last in vari- 
ous ways. As he was given to drink, it may be pre- 
sumed that his delusions were those of delirium tre- 
mens; for, as I am informed, by the venerable Major 
Cooper of Saltsbnrg, (who was an acquaintance of the 
three haunted men,) he was tormented by the devil gen- 
erally upon the heels of a spree— the fiend taking the 
shape of a dog that invariably jumped through the 
window at his victim ! 

The variaMons of this fulfilment of the curse of Ser- 
geant Trotter, like that of Evans, who was executed for 
murder in Greensburg, half a century ago, declaring his 
innocence to the last, and imprecating curses upon 
those who had perjured themselves to bring him 
to the gallows, would fill a volume. 



Gro where he would, by field or flood, 

Or through the glade and glen, 
O'er moss and moor and sandy shore. 



And then aback again, 



112 THE HAUNTED MAN. 



Still did he find the dog behind, 

As when the chase began ; 
For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, 

He Was a haunted man ! 

'• Ho ! ho ! my pet, I'll tire you yet — 

I'll mount my horse and ride I " 
So through the wood he rode and he rode, 

Till the horse fell down and (^ied. 
Still did he find the dog behind, 

As when the chase began ; 
For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, 

He was a haunted man ! 

•'Ho! ho! my whelp, I'll singe your scalp, 

If your legs I cannot tire ; " 
So home he went with a fell intent, 

And stood before the fire. 
Still did he find the dog behind, 

Within the frying pan ; 
For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, 

He was a haunted man I 

Then out he went to the churchdoor bent, 

And before the altar fell, 
" Here you're afraid to come," he said — 

"You are a hound of hell ! " 
Still did he find the dog behind. 

Ere he to pray began ; 
For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, 

He was a haunted man ! 

Then up he gat and shuddered at 

His doom before his death ; 
For with a thirst he was accursed 

That fired his coolest breath ! 
And he knew full well he was in hell 

Beneath an awful ban — 
For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, 

He was a haunted man ! 



TOM THE tinker's TIME. 113 

He filled his cup, and turned it up 

A thousand times a day ; 
Still with a thirst he was accursed, 

That burnt his throat away ; 
While at his side the dog he spied, 

As when his thirst began ; 
For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, 

He was a haunted man ! 

Grreat God ! to hear him curse and swear. 

And see his vitals wrung, 
When '^^ water boiled '■''^ '^^ hard ice broiled 

Upon his red-hot tongue ! 
While the devil's yelp was in the whelp, 

That followed when he ran ; 
For beyond the curse of the sacred verse, 

He was a haunted man ! 

He was, I ween, a haunted man, 

A being doubly cursed. 
Without the de'il's dog at his heels, 

Within, eternal thirst ! 
Woe ! woe the dole of the sinful soul, 

Within a life's short span ; 
For beyond the curse of the sacred verse. 

Is the Hell of the Haunted Man ! 



— 1794 — 

A TALE OF TOM THE* TINKER'S 
TIME. 



The following paragraphs have been extracted from 
the sketch of the Whisky Insurrection collated from 
various sources in Day's Historical Collections — noting, 
in advance, that this insurrection was the first rebel- 
lious outbreak against the laws of the United States, 
and that it served to associate Southwestern 
Pennsylvania with Washington, now President, 
who had, in the service of Governor Dinwiddle 
of Virginia, appeared in a, public capacity first in 
this region in early manhood. 



7T4 TO.Ai THE tinker's TI^rE. 



The province of Pennsylvania, as early as 1756, had? 
looked to the excise on ardent spirits for the means of 
sH'^taininir its bills of credit. The orijjinal law, passed 
to eonfinueonly ten years, was from time to time con- 
tinued, ns neces.-tties pressed upon the treasury. Dur- 
inj; the revolution, tlie law was generally evaded, in the 
west, by considering all spirits as for domestic use, such 
bein^ excepted from excise; but when the debts of the 
rev>lutif)n be-gan to press upon tlie states, they became 
more vigilant in the enforcement of the law. Opposi- 
tion arose at once in the western counties. Liberty- 
poles were erected, and people, assenobled in- arras, 
chased off the officers appointed to enforce the law, 
tarred and feathered some of them, singed their wigs, 
cut oflf" the tails of their horses, put coals in their boots, 
and compelled others to resign. Their object was to 
compel a repeal of the law, but they liad not the least 
idea of subverting the government. 

The pioneers of this region, descended as they were 
from the people of North Britain and Ireland, had come 
very honestly by their love of whisky ; and many had 
brought their hatred of an exciseman directly from the 
old country. The western insurgents followed, as they 
supposed, the recent example of the American revolu- 
tion. The first attempt of the British parliament — the 
very cause of the revolution — had been an excise law. 
There was nothing at that day disreputable in either 
drinking or making whisky. No temperance societies 
then existed: to drink whisky was as common and 
honorable as to eat bread ; aud the fame of " Old Mo- 
nongahela" was proverbial, both at the east and the 
west. Distilling was then esteemed as moral and re- 
spectable as any other business. It was early com- 
menced, and extensively carried on, in Western Penn- 
sylvania. There was neither home nor foreign market 
for rye. their principal crop ; the grain would not bear 
packing across the mountains. A horse could carry but 
four bushels; but he could take the product of 24 bush- 
els in the shape of alcohol. Whiskj', therefore, was the 
most important item of remittance, to pay for their salt, 
sugar, and iron. "The people had cultivated their land, 
for years, at the peril of their lives, with little or no 
protection from the federal government ; and when, by 
extraordinary efforts, thej' were enabled to raise a little 
more grain than their immediate wants required, they 
were met with a law restraining them in the liberty of 
doing what they pleased with the surplus. The people 
of Western Pennsylvania, therefore, regarded a tax on 
whisky in the same light as the citizens of Ohio would 



TOM THE TlNKEirs TIME. 115 



»ow regard a United States tax on l^rd, pork, or flour." 

It should be remembered also in this connection, 
that the new federal government was hut recently or- 
ganized; its powers were but little understood in the 
west; and the people of that section generally, for the 
previous twenty years, had been much more in the 
habit of opposing a foreign government, than of sus- 
taining one of their own. 

The state excise law, after remaining for years a 
dead letter, was repealed, a cir(!umstance not likely t(« 
incline the people to submit to a similar law passed by 
Congress on the 3d March, 1791, at the suggestion of Gen. 
Hamilton, secretary of the treasury. This law laid an 
excise of four-pence per gallon on all distilled spirits. 
The members from Western Penn-^ylvania, Smiley of 
Fayette, and Findley of Westmoreland, stoutly opposed 
the passage of the law, and on their return among their 
constituents loudly and openly disapproved of it. Al- 
bert Gallatin, then residing in Fayette county, also op- 
posed the law by all constitutional methods. It was with 
some difficulty that any one could be found to accept 
the office of inspector in the western district on account 
of its unpopularity. In this inflammatory state of the 
public mind, all that was necessary to kindle a blaze, 
was to apply the torch. * * * 

A term had come into popular use to designate the 
opposition to the excise law; it whs that of Tom the 
Tinker, It was not given by adversaries as a term of re- 
proach, but assumed by the insurgents in disguise at an 
early period. "A certain John Holcroft," says Mr. 
Brackenridge, "was thought to have made the first ap- 
plication of it at the attack on William Coughran. 
whose still was cut to pieces. This was humorously 
called mending his still. The menders of course must 
be tinkers, and the name collectively became Tom the 
Tinker." Advertisements were put up on trees, and 
other conspicuous places, with the signature of Tom the 
Tinker, threatening individuals, admonishing, or com- 
manding them. Menacing letters with the same signa- 
ture were sent to the Pittsburgh Gazette, with orders to 
publish them. — and the editor did not dare to refuse. " At 
Braddock's field the acclamation w^as, ' Hurrah for Tom 
the Tinker ! '— ' Are you a Tom Tinker's man ? ' Every 
man was willing to be thought so, and some had great 
trouble to wipe off imputations to the contrary." Mr. 
Findley says, "it afterward appeared that the letters 
did not originate with Holcroft, though the inventor of 
them has never been discovered." "-^^ * * 



116 TOM THE tinker's TIME. 



To suppress the insurrection, President Washington 
called out the militia from Pennsylvania, Maryland. 
New Jersey, and Virginia, to the number of fifteenthou- 
sand. Gov. Lee, of Virginia, was comrrader-in-chief. 
Gov. Mifflin, in person, commanded the Pennsylvania 
troops. The insurgents were overawed by this force, 
even before it reached the seat of insurrection, and 
cheerfully accepted of the amnesty which was pro- 
claimed. A few leaders were arrested, sent to Phil- 
adelphia, and tried in the U. 8. Court. Two only were 
convicted, and these were afterward pardoned. The ex- 
cise officers resunaed tlieir duties without opposition. 



Come, lithe and listen, gentlemen 

And ladies, while in rh}me, 
A tale I tell of what befell 

In Tom the Tinker's time. 

It fell within the month of June, 

In the year of 'Ninety-four, 
The country folk uprising broke 

Into a wild uproar. 

And of all the insurrectionists 

The greatest hereabout — 
As all agreed to be his meed — 

Was Ebenezer Stout. 

For why ? God wot, he kicked the beam 

At twenty stone and odd ; 
And for every pound of flesh he had ground 

An acre and a rod. 

And thirteen children had he born 

Unto his wedded spouse. 
Six gushing girls with golden curls. 

And seven sturdy boys. 

And of all the girls with golden curls. 

Fair Peggy, in her smock. 
And with nothing more of her father's store, 

Was the pick of all the flock. 



TOM THE tinker's TIME. 117 



The bursting bud of the red, red rose 

Is as fair as flower may be ; 
But the flittini; flush of Peggy's blush 

Was a fairer sight to see. 

And oh, the goodness of her heart. 

What tongue of man can tell ; 
For she lived to prove that truth and love 

On earth as in heaven may dwell. 

And many a gallant suitor came 

With a fond and hopeful air ; 
And as many went, with their time misspent, 

In darkness and despair. 

For well-a-day, a neighbor lad, 

Of worth, and manly mien, 
Had filled her eye with phantasy 

That none else could be seen. 

It fell upon a summer day, 

While cowering in the fern 
Of the shady nook in the bend of the brook, 

Him bathing she did discern. 

The while he stood upon the bank 

To doff and don his clothes, 
Her eyes of blue gleamed like the dew 

Upon a smothered rose ! 

And oh, her heart high in her halse, 

Went with the clap of a mill ; 
Albeit her breath in the arms of death 

Could not have been more still ! 

secret sight unto a maid 

Of a mother-naked man, — 
Forget it ever will she ? Never, 

Do what she may or can. 

So Peggy, syne, ne'er dreamed of man, 

As modest maidens may, 
But his were the charms of the lily-white arms, 

She beheld that summer day. 



118 TOM THE tinker's TIME. 

John Berkley bight, a sober lad 

Whose words were in bis work — 

With a steady pace and an even trace, 
Withouten halt or jerk. 

The while the country lads about, 

With braggart din and noise, 
Paraded here and mustered there. 

As Tom the Tinker's boys. 

John kept in the field with his scythe and pluugl 

From early morn till night, 
With barely a look at the mustering folk 

When they appeared in sight. 

And oh, to hear afar afield 

His merry voice in tune, 
Was a song more dear to Peggy's ear 

Than all the birds of June ! 

And oh, to wear in her golden hair 

The flower his love expressed, 
Was to be in heaven with her sins forgiven 

Among the ever blest ! 

But modest worth to make or mar. 

When neighbors neighbors scan, 
Is a shining mark when all is dark. 

E'en in the humblest man. 

Erelong the neighbors one and all, 

In honest Berkley saw 
The only wight who would not fight 

Against the Excise Law — 

Of laws accursed the very worst 

That ever was made or will, 
Since a tax it laid on the whiskey made, 

By rating the farmer's still. 

The still, forsooth, by means of which 

The farmer packed his grain. 
Over mountains and hills, four hundred miles. 

To the marts upon the main. 



TOM THE tinker's TIME. 119 



The still, God wot, that sometime bought 

The acre and the rod 
Of goodly ground to match each pound 

Of the twenty stone and odd — 

Of El)enezer Stout — the sire 

Of Pegojy, the loving and loved, 

And the neighbor °^ John who frowned most upon 
The worth which his heart approved. 

"Out on the loon ! " quo' the farmer, Stout, 

With many a wicked curse ; 
"Than his wife to be, I'd rather see 

My Peggy a corse — or worse ! " 

Oh, never a word fair Peggy heard 

That sank her in such sorrow ; 
The rose of to-day faded fast and away 

To the lily of to-morrow. 

Meantime, there sat in her father's hall, 

A suitor for her hand, 
Who marched to Tom the Tinker's drum, 

The captain of a band. 

x\nd when he saw fair Peggy's tears, 

With jealous hatred fired, 
To vent his spite and show his might, 

With her father he conspired — 

To summon Tom the Tinker's men. 

To meet in mask in the lane, 
To brand with shame, the noble name 

Of the law-abiding man. 

The law-abiding man 1 God wot, 

A stern rebuke to all 
Most eager to shirk their daily work 

At Tom the Tinker's call ! 

The law-abiding man ! Aye, aye. 

And if a saint as well. 
Unto the worst of the vile accursed, 

The embodiment of hell 1 



'120 TOM THE tinker's TIME. 

The law-abidino: man ! Yea, yea, 

And if a Christ he be, 
For what is he born but a crown of thorn, 

A spike, and the gallows-tree ! 

'' What ho ! without ! " cried honest John, 

At midnight, to the throng 
That gathered before his cabin door 

In mask to do him wrong. 

"Your kine have jumped your neighbor's fence/ 

The captain spake and again ; 
"Come out, belyve, and I'll help you drive 

Them into your own pen." * 

But when the honest man appeared. 

Behold a ruffian band 
Of men and boys with deaffening noise 

Appeared on every hand ! 

And when the captain spake the word^ 
They seized their wondering prey, 

And, with jibes and jeers and ringing cheers, 
Bore him by force away. 

And when they reached a chosen spot, 

They stripped him to the skin. 
And with tar besmeared his hair and beard, 

And his body from feet to chin. 

Then, ripping up a feather-bed, 

They thrust him in the tick — 
That he might fly as high as the sky, 

With'^lhe feathers that might stick ! 

Then, taking up a ragged rail. 

They bound him fast astride — 
Ere he learned to fly as high as the sky. 

To teach him how to ride. 

Then, oho ! aha ! with a clash of arms, 

And many a ribald shout. 
They bore their bird into the yard 

Of Ebenezer Stout ! 



TOM THE tinker's TIME. 121 

And left hina perched upon the rail 

III helpless misery 
lu the lig;ht of the moon, that night of June, 

Beneath fair Peggy's eye ! 

" Risf^, father, rise ! a wretched wight 

Ts lying at the door ! " — 
But never a word her father heard, 

For his redoubled snore. 

'' Rise, brothers, rise ! a wretched wight 

Is moaning in the yard ! " — 
But as clods of clay, her brothers lay 

And never heard a word. 

'•Rise, sisters, rise ! in pity rise 1 

Oh ! hear you not my call ! — " 

And into their ears fell Peggy's tears, 
But they lay as deaf as the wall. 

"Rise, mother, rise ! in mercv rise ! — 

Mother of Christ forbid 
That I in vain should call again ! " — 

But thrice and again she did. 

marveling, mournful, musing maid, 

With the world turned upside down. 

When the hearts of mother and sister and brother 
And father are hardened to stone ! 

W^ith a feeble, faltering, trembling step. 

Poor Peggy crossed the floor. 
And with parting teeth and indrawn breath, 

Unbarred the oaken door. 

Then with her eyes to heaven turned. 

Syne to the moonlit ground. 
She came upon the wretch unknown 

Unto the rail fast bound. 

And, with her fingers fair and soft, 

The knots were soon undone ; 
When a single word half uttered but heard 

Revealed unto her, John ! 



122 TOM THE tinker's TIME. 

mournful sight unto the maid 

In the maddening light of the moon I 

These — these the charms of her lover's arms 
In the rosy month of June ! 

These — these the charms of her lover's arms- 
Seen io her dreams afar, 

Within her grasp and midnight clasp, 
A filth of feathers and tar f 

With a sad, shrill shriek, poor Peggy raised 

The sleepers fast abed, 
To find her alone in a death-like swoob, 

And her wretched lover fled. 

And many a fair day came and went, 

Ere Peggy showed her face 
To father or mother, or sister, or brother, 

But in some secret place. 

Perchance above in the gabled loft, 

Or below in the alder shade, 
Or afar in the nook in the bend of the brook, 

A melancholy maid. 

And many a fair day came and went, 

Ere John again was seen : 
Till at length with a hoe in a weedy row. 

He appeared as he ever had been — 

At work and alone, forby the sound 

Of Tom the Tinker's drum. 
His crown to wear and his cross to bear, 

Until the end has come. 

When lo ! there came from far and near 

A throng to view the wight. 
Whose honest name was alone to blame 

For the work of hate and spite. 

fore and after sight of man 1 

Night turning into day. 
And black to white and wrong to right, 

The prowler to the prey ! 



TOM THE tinker's TIME. l-2o 



But never a word but yea or nay, 

To young or old, John said, 
As he worked away from day to day 

With a heavy, humbled head. 

Until the captain of the band 

Came strutting up the road, 
And spake of tar as munitions of war, 

And feathers to staunch the blood. 

When, with a blazing, bursting eye, 
John raised his head and hoe, 

And while with ire his blood was afire 
He struck a hasty blow. 

A hasty blow that cleft the skull 

Of the captain to the brain, 
And left the good man foul with blood — 

As if Abel had murdered Cain ! 

horror of hell to the suilty wretch 
Whose hand with blood is red ! 

Fiends in the air — here — everywhere — 
Point to him from the dead ! 

In vain he flees to the darkest dell, 
Or hides in the deepest cave. 

The fiends appear still in the air 
Before him and a grave ! 

With this dread sight before his eyes, 

John fled into the wood — 
To the shady nook in the bend of the brook. 
Where naked he had stood. 

When lo ! fair Peggy uprose from the fern. 
And called him thrice and again ; 

But never a word that Berkley heard 
So rent his soul in twain. 

For with her voice the fiends in the air 

Called each and every one, 
Till the darkened dell was an echoing hell 

Of a thunder-pealing John ! 



124 TOM THE tinker's TIME. 

Into the swirling of the stream, 

He sprang with might and main ; 

And long in the brook will Pefgy look 
Ere she see her lover again 1 

Yet, with hair unkempt and tattered gown. 

She ran along the stream, 
In vain to recover the drowning lover 

Of a distracting dream. 

Sometime she saw a lifted hand. 

Anon a face in the foam ; 
Sometime she heard a parting word 

In a bubble, sjne a Come 1 

Until, unto the gathering throng 

Which the murderer persued, 
The maiden came withouten shame, 

As a new-born baby nude. 

"Come, father, come ! a drowning man 

Is reaching for relief ! '' — 
Oh, never a word her father heard, 

So cast him into grief. 

" Come, brothers, come ! a drowning man 
Uplifts his hand for aid ! " — 

Oh, never a word her brothers heard, 
Their heads so heavy made. 

" Come, sisters, come ! my dearest love 
Is sinking thrice and again ! " — 

Oh, never a word her sisters heard 

Their hearts so pierced with pain. 

" Come, mother, come ! and make my bed 

Upon the floating foam ; 
For here the bride I must abide 

The coming of the groom ! 

"See, here he comes in the white, white toam 

But he is whiter far — 
But now, alack ! he is foul and black — 

A filth of feathers and tar !" 



TOM THE TINKERS TIME. 125 



Oh, sadly, sadly rang the voice 

Of Pegoy day and ni^ht, 
With the shifting scene of what hath bemi 

Forever in her sight. 

The while the farmer's hoose and lands 
From taut to tattered passed — 

The fields unniown, the fences down, 
His wealth a common waste. 

For away at Tom the Tinker's call 
Were the sturdy boys in arms ; 

And away were the girls with the gulden curls 
In the public mart with their charms. 

All gone, all gone, save Peggy alone, 
With her father and her mother ; 

Her pitiful prkyer ever in the ear 
Of one or of the other. 

Until, behold, an army came 

The excise to maintain, 
And camped before the farmer's door, 

Full fifteen thousand men. 

And never a grain in the farmer's bin. 

But went the army to feed ; 
And never a stake that would rive or break. 

But burned to bake the bread. 

Until the insurrectionists, 

Without or flag or head, 
In broken bands with empty h^inds 

In wild disorder fled. 

The leader of the throng, a myth, 

A name and nothing more, 
That, with feathers ^°<* tar, ^""s'^* the Whiskey War. 

Of Seventeen-Ninety-four ! 

When, the battle won without firing a gun. 

The army marched again, 
Back, over the miles of mountain and hills — 

Full fifteen thousand men. 



12G. TOM THE tinker's TIME. 

And in the van, behind a cart, 

With a rope his neck about, 
High handed to be to the traitor's tree. 

Marched Ebenezer Stout ! 

Oh, weary, weary was the way 

Behind the culprit cart ; 
But never the weight of his flesh was as great, 

As the heaviness of his heart. 

And dreary, dreary were the walls 

'Of the prison where he lay 
Until released, but forever disgraced, 
A year hence and a day. 

And weary, weary was the walk 

Of the farmer, sick and sore. 
Over mountains and hills, four hundred miles, 

Back to his homestead door. 

And oh, the anguish of his heart, 

When, turning into the yard, 
Poor Peggy's appeal without avail. 

Repeated thrice, he heard. 

",Come, father, come! a wretched wight 
Is drowning in the stream ! " — 

Oh, when will Death cut short her breath. 
And end her awful dream ! 

"Nay, nay, old man ! hold off your hand ! 

My father was fat and fair ; 
The biggest man in all the land ; 

And coal-black was his hair ! 

"Out, out, you loon ! my father has gone 

Away in the army's van. 
High hanged to be to the traitor's tree, 

A Tom-the-Tinker's man ! 

" Nay, nay, old man — thy beard is white. 

But my love is whiter far — 
But now, alack, he is foul and black, 

A filth of feathers and fear !" 



THE SPECTRE SHIP. 127 

Oh, may this fair land of the West, 

See never, never more, 
The woe and i^rief without relief 

Of Seventeen-'Ninety-four ! 

When Tom the Tinker ruled supreme, 
And wroutjht the Whiskey War — 

The mask and the might of hatred and spite 
To befoul with feathers and tar ! 



— 1798 — 

THE SPECTRE SHIP OF PORT PITT, 



One of the most curious pages in the history of 
Southwestern Pennsylvania is that which relates to the 
construction at Pittsburgh and Elizabeth town of ocean 
vessels — galleys, schooners and brigs, of from two to 
six hundred tons burthen — more than two thousand 
miles from the sea. This industry was inaugurated by 
the government in the year 1798, by tlie construction of 
two armed galleys, in order to put the valley of the Ohio 
in a state of defence, in anticipation of war with France 
and an exposure to the enemy of the western frontier 
through the channel of the Mississippi. Afterward it 
was continued until perhaps a score of ocean vessels 
were built in these inland ports — the scraggy processes of 
the backbone of the continent being seen from the mast- 
heads in either! However foreign, accordingly, at first 
sight, the language of the sea may be to the legenary his- 
tory of Southwestern Pennsylvania, the reader must ac- 
knowledge now that it is legitimate. 



It was when the grandsire, that totters to-day 

Adown the hill to the tomb, 
Was but a thought by phantasy wrought 

In a musing maiden's womb. 

The keel of a stately ship was laid 
In the Port of Pitt, in glee — 

In the ebbing flood of the River of Blood, 
Two thousand miles from the sea ! 



128 THE SPECTRE SHIP. 



The keel of a stately ship was laid, 

With ihe caul* of a babe inwrought, 

That never beneath the wave of Death, 

Should the ship and her crew be brought I 

With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! 

The caul in the keel was cast, 
To bind forever on ocean and river 

The Future with the Past. 

But alack the day, the fatal caul 

Was forgotten with its mirth ; 
The ship was wrought like a babe begot 

xlnd doomed for aye at birth ! 

Aye, the ship was wrought like a babe begot, 

And doomed at birth for aye, 
On the ebbing flood of the River of Blood 

To sail to the sea — and alway ! 

And now, at length, the ship was built. 
And cleared as the papers were writ. 

Among the hills, two thousand miles 
From the sea, in the Port of Pitt. 

With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! 

That echoed from shore to shore ; 
While the guns of the Fort that guarded the Port 

Commingled their thundering roar ! 

With a cargo of whisky and flour and furs. 

And a crew of brave men all, 
The ship clove the wave, as if scoffing the grave 

In the doom of her keel-wrought caul. 

And adown the flood of the River of Blood, 

She rode to the salt, salt sea. 
Where, spreading her sail to the sou'-west gale, 

She sped in pride and glee. 

Like the fairy boat of a feather afloat 

In a basin, before the breath. 
Of a darling boy in the arms of Joy, 

Between the child and Death ! 



THE SPECTRE SHIP. 129 

Liki^ rhe fairy boat of a feather afloat, 

She sped in ^\ee and pride, 
Till behold ! in the morn, in the Port of Leghorn, 

She rode on the glittering tide ! 

Whh a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! 

The anchor was cast in sport ; 
When the caprain and mate in formal state 

Sought the Master of the Port — 

The right to claim, in their country's name, 
To trade in the Port of Leghorn, 

The store of goods which over the floods 
The fated ship had borne. 

But when the Master their papers read. 

Sorely puzzled was his wit ; 
For never before in a life of three score 

Held he heard of the Port of Pitt ! 

When, turning around, he stamped the ground, 

And swore a fearful oath. 
That the captain ^""^ mate were ^'' pris'ners "^ state, 

And that he would hang them both — 

That he would hang them as pirates both ; 

For never did tongue before tell 
Of the Port of Pitt, save in Holy Writ, 

Where it spake of the Pit of Hell ! 

But never a word spake the captain and mate, 

As if they were afeared, 
While they spread °° the lap *''' the Master a map 

Of the port whence they had cleared. 

Two thousand miles from the sea and more, 

The Master followed the course 
Of the ebbing flood of the River of Blood 

Till he came to its forked source. 

And never a word spake the captain and mate, 
Till the Master read twice and again, 

These words quaintly writ, " The Port of Pitt. 
The site of the French fort, Duquesne ! " 



130 THE SPECTRE SHIP, 



When up spake the (captain *°* "^p spake the matCy 

" Now hanji us, if you please ; 
But remember, the Port, *'"'* supplanted the Forty 

Will revenge us over the seas I " 

'•But for this map,'' the Master said, 

" And i^s memory of Duquesne, 
I had huno- you both ; "f ^""^ he called "'^^ an oath. 

For a basket of champagne. 

And the wine went around and around again, 

With the sallies of their wit ; 
While the Master poured '"^ with laughter roared. 

As he drank to the Port of Pitt I 

Till, half seas over, the captain and mate, 

Bade the jolly old Master adieu, 
And tacked their way to the landing quay — 

But their ship was not in view ! 

They looked north, south, east and west ; 

But the ship and her crew were gone ! 
Till the captain and mate were sobered straight, 

And stood as if turned to stone ! 

When back to the Master they sped in haste. 

Their piteous tale to tell, 
That liefer had they been hanfjed that day 

Than have met what them befell. 

'•Then hanged shall ye be," the Master swore, 

To the memory of Duquesne, 
And the scurvy trick '^^'''^ ye learned "^^ Old Nick 

To cheat me of my champagne 1 " 

And hang them he did as pirates — and fools,' 

With less discretion than wit. 
To leave their gold in the vessel's hold. 

To be spent by the crew of Port Pitt. 

While out to sea sped the gallant ship, 
With the caul of the living cast 

III her keel beneath, and the black flag of death 
Nailed fast to her mizen mast ! 



THE SPECTRE SHIP. 131 

While a murderous crew uf mutineers 
With swords fouciht hand to hand, 

Till the deck was red with the h^.t blood shed 
For the gallant ship's command — 

Till the deck was red with the hot blood shed. 

From Uiany a gaping wound. 
And never a wight to stand upright 

On the bloody deck was found. 

Save one alone, the boatswain, by chance 

With both legs cut ymain, 
Who stood aod fast with his back to a mast, 

Aod defied the crew thrice and again. 

When with one accord, ** the boatswain was given 

The gallant ship's command. 
To spare no prize in the sea-rover's eyes 

On the salt, salt sea or the laud. 

With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! 

On the capstan the boatswain was placed, 
With the sword of command in his ready hand, 

And a pistol-belt round his waist. 

When lo ! it appeared to the mutineers, 

That not a man on board 
Had lost his life in the terrible strife 

With pike and gun and sword ! 

With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! 

The crew began to feel 
The might of the charm that kept them ^'■"'^ harm, 

As it lay unknown in the keel ! 

Aye, aye, my hearties ! what blew the gale 

As never blew gale before. 
The ship like a feather rode out the weather, 

Though she hugged a rocky shore ! 

And oho ! aha ! the fierce delight, 

To snatch the fleeing prey 
From the very teeth of the jaws of Death 

In the breaker's cloud of spray ! 



132 THE SPECTRE SHIP. 

Till, overjoyed in the might of the caul 
That preserved the ship and crew, 

They ventured more than ever before 

As their sreed the more ravenous j^nnv. 



n' 



Till, one by one, on the bloody deck 
Of the boarded ship, in glee, 

The wounded died, to fall o'er the side 
Of the vessel into the sea — 

Till, one by one, in the bloody brawl 
Of the revelers on the shore, 

The ready knife took the luckless life 
That never risked death before — 

Till, one by one, beyond the might 

Of the caul in the keel inwrought, 

But one in ten of fifty men 

The pipe of all hands brought — 

The first, the stump on the capstan set. 

The second on the mast, 
The third alone with a loaded gun, 

The fourth with a plummet cast — 

While the fifth stood at the winding wheel 
To guide the f^hip aright — 

With only five of the crew alive 

Within the caul charm's might ! 

With only five of the crew alive. 

Like the senses in the poll 
Of Man afloat in his gallant boat. 

With a caul in his inwrought Soul ! 

With only five of the crew alive, 

To see, to hear, to feel, 
To taste and to smell of the heaven or hell 

Inwrought with the soul in her keel ! 

With only five of the crew alive, 

Between the sky and the wave ; 

While a mint of gold lay in the hold. 
Like the labor of life in a grave ! 



THE SPECTRE SHIP. 133 



Like the labor of life in the grave of Greed, 

That sinks in its self dug hole. 
Till, in the form of a hungry worm, 

It gnaws into its own soul ! 

Till, behold I the five of the crew alive. 

Unable to rob on the waves, 
Took of the gold in the vessel's hold 

And bought a cargo of slaves. 

And bought a cargo of human slaves, 

As black as black could be, 
And spread the sail to the sou'-east gale, 

To sell them over the sea. 

With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 I 

The ship drave on in mirth — 
Like a thought 8«i"»s back o'er *•*« sea ""^ life's track, 

From the grave to t^ the cradle of birth ! 

Like a thought ^"'""^ back o'er '^^ sea °^ life's track. 

From a grave in the hell of sin 
To the cradle of birth in the heaven on earth 

That in the past hath been ! 

When behold ! a cloud appeared in the sky 

And spread from pole to pole, 
As heavy and black as the dreadful rack 

Of death to a sinful soul ! 

The while the gale with increasing might, 

Blew as never gale blew before, 
Till the boatswain's word was no longer heard 

In the hurricane's deaffening roar ! 

The while the billows heaved and swelled, 

Till, behold ! a mountain crest 
As if two seas had dashed and together crashed 

North and south, from the east and the west ! 

When, through the wave, the vessel drave 

With the black flag on its mast, 
And rode on the tide on the other side. 

A Spectral Ship of the Past ! 



134 THE SPECTRE SHIP. 

A spectral ship with a spectral crew — 

Five spectral sailors in all. 
Id a spectral boat like a feather afloat 

With a scul in her inwrouj^hi caul ! 

In a spectral boat like a feather afloat, 

With a soul that lived thro' the waves ; 

And within the hold, the gain of gold, 
In five hundred spectral slaves ! 

Five hundred spectral slaves as white 

As the foam in the teeth of the gale ; 

For '^^ skins "' '''' blacks ^"^ been flayed ^™"^ "*«'^^ backs 
And sewed into the sail ! 

Five hundred spectral slaves — Oho ! 

That, from the vessel's hold, 
Shed in the night a wondrous light 

As of silver spangled with gold ! 

Till, behold, the ship in the midnight gloom, 

In the awful form appeared 
Of a wreck in the daze of the lightning's blaze. 

While the thunder-clap is heard ! 

A shape of light in the blackest of night. 

When the blinded eyes are closed, 
And the ears are dead in a maddened head — 

A soul-seen vessel's ghost ! 

With — behold 1 — the crew '" the wondrou!-; light, 

To see, to hear, and to feel, 
To taste, and to smell of the midnight hell 

Of the caul, like a soul, in the keel ! 

The first, the stump on the capstan set. 

The second on the mast, 
The third alone with a loaded gun. 

The fourth with a plummet cast — 

While the fifth stood at the winding wheel 

To guide the ship aright, 
Before the gale that filled the sail 

In the everlasting night ! 



THE SPECTRE SHIP. 135 



With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! 

The ship drave; on in mirth — 
Like a thought going 13^^,1, Q.g^ ^^^ g^^ of iip^,g ^^^^j^ 

From bnyond the grave to birth ! 

Back o'er the deep of the wisdom of age, 
And the shoal of youthful wit — 

Back o'er the flood of the River of Blood 
To its source in the Port of Pitt ! 

With a ho ! heave-0 ! and a hearty heave-0 ! 

The ship drave into the port 
Whence she """^ cleared ^'^^^ the ^''^' crowd cheered, 

And the cannons boomed in the fort ! 

Christ Jesu ! to stand on the trembling bridge 
In the sound of the midnight bell, 

As the ship drives in — the Ship of Sin ! 
Before the blast of Hell ! 

To see the black flag on the mast, 

That quivers in the gale ; 
And the skins '''"^ the ^-"^^ "^ the flayed-alive blacks 

That flap in the sable sail ! 

To see the crew in the ghastly hue 

That issues from the hold — 
A wondrous light as if shed in the night 

From silver spangled with gold ! 

The first, the stump on the capstan set. 

The second on the mast, 
The third alone with a loaded gun, 

The fourth with a plummet cast — 

While the fifth stands at the winding wheel 

To guide the ship aright. 
As she drives in, the Ship of Sin, 

In the everlasting night ! 

To see — and to hear above the roar 

^ Of the midnight hell-blown blast — 
And the flap of the sail in the angry gale 
Against the quivering mast — 



136 THE 8PECTRE SHIP. 

And the ho ! heave-0 ! and the hearty heave-0 ! 

Of the crew in their devilish mirth, 
When the anchor is cast and the ship made fast 

In the port of her clearance on earth — 

To hear the five hundred slaves shriek out, 

As never slaves shrieked before, 
Above the din of the Ship of Sin 

And the midnight hell-blast^s roar f 

Christ Jesu ! as if they shrieked with the lungs 
Of the thousands of slaves untold, 

Flayed from black to white, at work at midnight, 
In the sinful service of gold ! 

Flayed from black to white, at work at midnight, 

In the golden service of sin, 
To make the sail to catch rhe gale 

To drive the ghost ship in — 

In — into the clearance port of birth, 

The Port of Pitt, God wot, 
The source of the flood of the River of Blood 

Where the caul with the keel is inwrought ! 



* " When a child is born with the membranes over 
the face, it is said to be * born with a caul.' In the cata- 
logue of superstitions, this is one of the favorable 
omens. The caul itself is supposed to confer privileges 
upon the possessor ; hence the membranes are dried, 
and sometimes sold for a high price."— Dunglison. The 
usual privilege conferred is immunity from drowning; 
hence the caul among sailors commands the highest 
price — several guineas having been paid for a caul that 
has circumnavigated the globe. 

t This incident has been made known generally 
through Henry Clay, who, in a speech delivered in Con- 
gress, said : "To illustrate the commercial habits and 
en terprise o f the American people, ( he said ) he would 
relate an anecdote of a vessel, built and cleared at 
I'ittsburgh for Leghorn. When she arrived at her place 
of destination, the master presented his papers to the 
custom-house officer — who could not credit him, and 
said to him, 'Sir, your papers are forged; there is no 
such port as Pittsburgh in the world; your vessel must 



PRINCE GALLITZIN. 137 



be confiscated.' The trembling captain laid before the 
officer the map of the United States, directed him to the 
Gulf of Mexico, pointed out the mouth of the Missis- 
sippi, led him a thousand miles up it to the mouth of 
the Ohio, and theuce another thousand up it to Pitts- 
burgh : • There, sir. is the port from whence my vessel 
cleared.' The astonished officer, before he had seen 
the m,ip. would as readily h »ve believed this vessel had 
been navigated from the moon.'' 



— 1799 — 

PRINCE GALLITZIN. 

"Gallitziu bei^an his; mission in 1799, with, perhaps, 
a dozen men of his faith scattered about through the 
mountain, and no other sanctuary, save the little ora- 
tory of Father Flaget, in all the West, than the one of 
logs thirty feet long, which he himself had reared. He 
lived to see the village of Loretto, [in Cambria county,] 
which he had founded, grow into a populous and flour- 
ishing town; to find the Faith, whose standard he had 
been the first to restore since its going down amid the 
ruins of Fort Duqnesne, established upon a footing from 
which no revolution of time or circumstance was ever 
afterwards to displace it; to witness new chapels spring 
up, one by one, till every hamlet almost, dotting the 
lowlands down upon which he looked, had its spire; to 
behold his mission prevail, until the apostolic number 
of his origiuHl followers had increased and multiplied a 
thousanrlfold ; fill hospitals and houses of industry, by 
the liberal charities of his people, were erected ; and till 
boarding-schools, free-schools, orphan asylums, and the- 
ological college> were institutions common throughout 
the land, as were the necessities which called them into 
existence. He died at Loretto in 1840." — Nevin. 



Since men are the expressions growth-inwrought 

Of their environment, it follows that 

In looking, with the eye of contemplation, » 

At men as representatives of places, 

The circumstances of their lives and actions 

Are seen within the mirror of themselves : 

'Tis not the eye that sees but the idea. 



Behold the Little World a wilderness ; 
And, on the Alleghany mountain's crest, 



l.^S SAMUEL BKADT. 



His back turned to the flesh-pots of the East — 
His soul f^)rever severed from his seed — 
A prince in prayer kneels before the Cross ! 

The liijht of his lone taper has dispelled 
The sloou) and terror of rhe hemlock's shade ;; 
The tinkiinuj oP his luatin-bell is beard 
Instead of the dread rattle o-f the snake 
With fanc^-envenomed jaw thrown back to strike 
The perfume of his censer has displaced 
The baneful foetor of the climbino; rhus ; 
x\ soft and mellow lio^ht is everywhere 
Diffused upon the p linted leaves of autumn ; 
And the warm breath of balm within the wind 
Is the sweet spirit of the Holy Man 
Commingling sanctity with solitude. 

The Mother with her Boy- Babe in her arms 
Appears with the uprisins; sun in th' East — 
The lio-ht of Life Eternal in the dawn ! 
The while, the Manito, his children's scalps 
Within his bloody hands, sinks in the West, 
Into the night of death that knows no dawn f 

The symbol of the cross, mark on thee, Man, 
x\nd in thee. Soul, and join with him in prayer 
Where kneels the potentate of earth, the prince, 
The peasant may, to rise with him, mayhap, 
Into the azure of the x\lley:hanies, 
Illumined in the Lisht of Life Eternal ! 



- 1779-1800 — 

SAMUEL BRADY. 



" Capt. Samuel Brady was born In Shippensburg, in 
(Juraberland county, in 1758, but soon after removed 
with his father to the West Branch of the Susquehanna* 



■GEORGE RAPP. 139 



a fewnmiles above Northumberland. Cradled amid th« 
alarms and excitements of a frontier exposed to savage 
warfare, Brady's niilitary propensities were very early 
•developed. He eagerly sought a post in the Revolution- 
ary army ; was at the siege of Boston 4 a lieutenant at 
the massacre of the Paoli ; and in 1779 was ordered to 
Fort Pitt with the regiment under Gen. Broadhead. A 
short time previous to this, both his father and brother 
had fallen by the hands of Indians; and from that mo- 
ment Brady took a solemn oath of vengeance against 
all Indians. And his future life was devoted to the ful- 
filment of his vow. While Gen. Broadhead held com- 
mand at Fort Pitt, ( 178U-81,j Brady was often selected to 
command small scouting parties sent into the Indian 
country north and west of the fort, to watch 
the movements of the savages; a charge which 
Brady always fulfilled with his characteristic 
courage and sagacity."— Day. 



The scene shifts with the actor uo the stage — 
An Indian summer comes with paint bedaubed ; 
The skj's aflame; the rivers run with blood: 
The Pale-face and the Ked-skiu, side by side, 
Are indistiuguishable savages; 
The speeding tomahawk gleams in the eye ; 
The death-whoop rings and echoes in the ear; 
The butchery ot babes is in the heart ! 



— 18U5 — 

GEORGE RAFF. 



For particulars, the reader is referred to the little 
book printed in Pittsburgh, in 1866. entitled, " The Har- 
mony Society, at Economy, Penn'a. Founded by 
George Rapp, A. D. 1805. With an Appendix. 
By Aaron Williams, D. D." 



Again the land's a land of peace and plenty 
The larva of the moth weaves in her loom 



140 SAM MEASON, THE ROBBER. 

The silken band of love and wedding «iown ; 

The teasel pricks the woolen cloth (if warmth 

Unto the old and needy in the wind ; 

The purple ^rape sinks bursting in the vat ; 

To flow erelong into the veins of age 

A recollection of the joys of youth ; 

The opposites of human kind and sjiheres 

Meet and commingle in the shop in peace. 

With sharpened swords and ^t^ el blades in iheir 

iiands ; 
Economy and Harmony are heard 
Upon the earth as the abodes of men ! 



— 1790-1810 — 

SAiM MEASON, THE ROBBER. 



Samuel Meavson, one of the most noted highwaymen 
of America, was a native of Fayette county, Pennsj'lva- 
nla. His depredations extended from the head of tue 
Ohio to the mouth of the Mississippi during the latter 
part of the last and the beginning of the present cen- 
tury. A large reward having been offered for liis head, 
he was slain by two men, who, when they tendered the 
head and claimed the reward, were recognized as high- 
waymen who had belonged to Meason's gang, and re- 
ceived their desserts on the gallows. 



***** 

The country is accursed and foul with blood ; 
The heath is haunted by the highwayman ; 
The rock's a robber to the traveler ; 
The cave conceals the captive and her shame ; 
The moan of murder's on the mountain height. 
The voice in vain for help is in the vale ; 
The ripple in the river for a moment — see ! 
Reveals, before it sinks, the bloated corpse ; 
The air is stifling and the heart is hushed ; 
The eyeballs start within their sockets, as 
They glare into the bloodshot eyes of Crime ! 



THE HOARY OLI> HERf> OF HELL. 141 



— 1810 — 

THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL 



The scene of the terrible ti-agedj' of PolV>- Williams, 
•enacted in tlie early part of the suuiiuer of 1810, is at a 
place called the White RiK-ks — a ciitf near the crest of 
the Chestnut Ridge, ( or Laurel Hill, as the mountain is 
called erroneously south of the Youghiogheny,) about 
six miles south-east of Uniontown, the capital of Fa- 
yette county. And, estimated by the impression the 
event has left upon the people in the several counties of 
Fayette, Westmoreland and Greene, no local occur- 
rence, in the annals of Southwestern Pennsylvania, is 
of as great importance and entitled to more considera- 
tion by the philosopher and poet, as the story of this 
woman and her betrayer and murderer, Philip Rogers ; 
possibly because, with the eye of a poet the people un- 
consciously have seen in Polly Williams and Philip 
Rogers the opposite and supplemental halves of man- 
kind, and in the murder of a mother with child by a 
father the most horrible of crimes, indicating, in the 
most glaring light to the understanding of all, the anni- 
hilation of humanity, in the Appendix the reader will 
find several poems on the subject — one by my lament- 
ed friend, Mr. A. F. Hill, who, in the exubei'ance of his 
youthful fancy has amplified the story into an enter- 
taining novel, entitled " The White Rocks, or the Rob- 
bers' Den — a Tragedy of the Mountains." 



The night was dark, but the camp-fire shoue, 
With a ruddj, flickering light, 

On the mountain's crown of ragged stone — 
That merrj November night. 



When the cup went round with a song or jest 

Among the merry three, 
Till the midnight came like a bat of flame 

Flitting hither and thither in glee. 

The youngest was a beardless boy, 

With a dimple in his chin, 
A maiden's mouth in the triumph of truth, 

And a soul untouched by sin. 



142 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 

The second was a man in years, 

And acquaintance with the world, 

With an eye ringed with red in a tieavy head, 
And a white lip slightly curled. 

While the third was grizzled at thirty and three, 
His visage scored and crossed — 

As if when a boy he had gambled fur joy, 
And staked his mhnhood, and lust ! 

'' Yea, give us a toast, my beardless buy ! '" 

The grizzled gambler said ; 
While the man in years, aglow in tears, 

Nudged his feet and nodded his head. 

'' I drink to the maiden of womanly worth, 

With her heart in an open eye, 
Whom sinless to keep, as a babe asleep, 

I willingly would die ! " 

" Well said, my boy ; but hear us all," 

The grizzled gambler said, 
" Before we drain our cups again, 

And betake ourselves to bed." 

" I drink to the wife who takes this life. 
As she takes the wind and weather. 

And who says, ' We'll share the foul and fair — 
We'll live and die together.' " 

" Well said, my maudlin half and half," 

The grizzled gambler said ; 
" But before I quaff to a cry and a laugh, 

I'll drink to the living dead ! 

" I drink to the mother, above any other. 

Who has yielded to my will. 
And who loves — to die ! fondly swearing that I 

Am kindest when I kill ! " 

The gambler said, with a toss of his head. 
And a flash from his coal black eye, — 

When a sudden sound, ^^''^ came from the ground, 
Upheld his glass on high. 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 143 

" Well said, thou yourli, with thy maiden's mouth ; 

Well said, thou half and half; 
Well said, thou son of the Evil One ; 

But hear me ere ye quaff! " 

The earth spake with an old man's voice, 

Betwixt a gasp and a groan ; 
When a sudden blast of the wind swept past 

And chilled the boy to the bone ! 

When a sudden blast of the wind swept past, 

And made the camp-fire glare ; 
Till another gust swept the fiery dust 

Into ashes in the air ! 

And all was the gloom of the silent tomb 
On the mountain, that merry midnight ; 

When a crack in the crown of ragged stone 
Revealed a ghastly light ! 

And lo ! there appeared the long white beard 

Of an old, old man clinging fast 
To rht^ very ediJ:e of the White-Rock ledge 

Whence Polly Williams was cast ! 

The beardless boy, ^^""s'' he shuddered with fright, 

Sprang to his feet to save — 
'• But touch that ghost, and thou art lost ! 

That brink is of the grave ! " 

The maudlin man said, as over his head 
The boy turned his cup, and fell ; 

While the grizzled '"''° laughed *^ "^ ^^'i^"'" he quafi'ed 
^' To the Hoary old Hero of Hell ! " 

And again filled his cup ; when the boy stood up 
Aghast, in horror and wonder, — 

Like a statue, in form, in the midst of a storm 
Of lightning and of thunder ! 

•' Have courage, my boy, and fill again, 
In despite of this damned ghost ; 

For since we have burst into being accursed, 
Let us live among the lost ! " 



144 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL, 

The grizzled man said, with a toss of his head, 
And a flash from his coal-black eye; 

But the ^•^y, kneelinij •'°''°, crashed ^** '^"p"^'' the stone-. 
And began to pray and to cry ! 

When lo ! the old, old man, with the bound 
Of a youth overflowing with joy, 

Spransr """^^ ^^'^ the ed^ie of the White-Rock ledge. 
And Sate down by the boy, — 

And spake to him, with a strengthened voice, 
But with many a gasp and groan ; 

While the maudlin man wept as he smiling slept, 
And the grizzled man drank alone. 

••Now, Christ thee save, thou weeping boy, 

Now, Christ thoe save and see ; 
For thou hast given, thro' the mercy of Heaven, 

A moment of rest to me ! 

"A moment of rest to the living dead, 

Doomed, as I lived to damn ! 
The Hero of Hell, it is said and well, 

For I Philip Rogers am ! 

'• Doomed ^ ''»'*« °° the edge ^^ the White-Rock ledge, 

Until the end of time, 
And know no rest, save when I attest 

To youth, the course of crime. 

"Ah, God ! hdw many, many years 

In agony have I hung 
To the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, 

Where Polly AA^illiams clung ! 

" And felt that wretched woman's woe 
And the pang of her mother pain, 

Till the crushing stone has broken the bone 
And benumbed the dizzy brain ! 

'•And over and over and over again, 

With every hurried breath — 
With every thought in a phrenzied brain wrought, 

I have died her awful death ! 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 145 

"With never a respite till I spake 

Unto thy toast, youth, 
And withheld the brim of the cup of crime 

From thy merry maiden's mouth ! 

" Yea, Christ thee save from my living grave, 

For thy timely, timely toast ; 
For thou, O youth, with thy maiden's mouth, 

Hast eased a damned ghost ! 

''x\nd in this moment of rest from woe, 
The course of my life, to scan — 

List, while I tell what hath befell 
At least one sinful man. 

" My father died to leave me a babe 

With a fondling mother alone, 
When ^ woe I grew ^^'* ^'^^ the wealth he'd amassed, 

As will as a widow's son. 

'I knew no wish ungratified, 

Nor appetite unappeased ; 
I kicked and I cried and resistance defied — 

rd do, and did, as I pleased ! 

•• I never knew how fast I grew. 

Till I held as idle toys 
My father's tomb and my mother's womb, 

When I was shunned by the boys. 

"But what cared I for company. 

In my selfishness accursed ! 
I was only too glad to go from bad 

To worse, and then to worst ! 

"The pleasures of boyhood did but cloy, 

In my self-sated mouth. 
When into the wood in solitude, 

I wandered a yearning youth. 

•' I was possessed with a fierce unrest. 
Which selfishness could not still ; 

When I stole *" the edge °' the White-Rock ledge, 
Myself in despair to kill ! 



146 THE HOAKY OLD HERO OF HELL. 

•-'When lo ! as I stood, in this murderous mood. 

Betwixt despair and death — 
On the ragged edge of the rocky ledge, — 

My shadow fell beneath I 

"And athwart the face of a mountain maid, 

In search of the raw-red root, 
To bring relief to a mother's grief 

With the breath of death in her throat. 

"'When, looking up, the maid espied 

Me in my murderous mood ; 
And shrieking outright in dismay and affright. 

She fled into the wood. 

''Aback T crept from the dizzy edge, 

And adowD the fearful height. 
When I pursued the maid through the wood, 

Till I clutched her in her flight. 

" I knew not why I followed her. 

Nor what a maid might be — 
Unless it was no other cause 

Than that she fled from me. 

"Ah, God ! how often Man, as I, 

Betwixt despair and death, 
Stands on the edge of a rocky ledge, 

Till his shadow falls beneath — 

•' And athwart the face of the maiden of chance, 

x\s it hath me befell, 
From that hour to doom his life to the tomb — 

And his soul to heaven or hell ! 

" For till that hour, I caught the maid 

And held her in my arms, 
I never knew that my yearning grew 

To feed on a woman's charms ! 

"I never knew there was beauty on earth. 
Till I looked in the face of the girl — 

In her blue eye a tear, starting, trembling in fear, 
Then running to hide in a curl ! 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 147 

*' A curl that grew like a golden vine, 

In an alabaster vase, 
That daintily made of the sunshine a shade 

That half* con€eale<i her face. 

" I never knew that I had a heart, 

But only a selfish will, 
Till, against my breast, the maiden I pressed, 

And felt in it throbbing, a thrill ! 

*'And how or when, is beyond my ken, — 

But on her warm, white neck. 
By chance I espied ^^^ her curls could """^ hide — 

A daiuty coal-black speck. 

* When, with burning bliss, I imprinted a kiss 

Upon the quivering spot ; 
While ettH and clear rose her shriek in fear. 

Which I in my rapture heard not — 

''Till I felt a hand on my shoulder laid — 

Like a falling, trembling leaf; 
When ""^ arms ^'"^^ numb ''''^ ""^ *"°s"^ =*"•* lips dumb, 

And I stole away like a thief! 

*' I could have killed both the mother and maid, 

For resisting my desire ; 
But I held my breath when I felt that her death 

Would not extinguish my fire ! 

*' When lo ! I mild and milder grew. 

To win what death denied ; 
And, into the wood, in a feverish mood, 

To woo the maiden, I hied. 

^'1 sought the place where my shadow fell, 

And I dug the raw-red root. 
To bring relief to her mother's grief 

With the breath of death in her throat. 

"And down before the cabin door 

Of the mother and the maid, 
The raw-red root with bread and fruit. 

In the dead of night, I laid. 



148 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 

'• And again and again at the cabin door. 

Upon the mountain side. 
I laid the root with bread and tVuit, 

Till the maiden's mother died. 

"When hark ! I heard a voice in the night — - 
' Come back ! come back ! ' it said ; 

I entered the door and sate before 
The living and the dead. 

"And over the corpse I held my hand 

In that of the mournful maid, 
As I plighted my troth with an awful oath, 

That she never should be betrayed ! 

" When lo I the head of the ghastly dead 
Uprose from the humble hearse ; 

When the maiden fell down, and lay in a swown, 
While I smote the corpse with a curse ! 

" And again, when the corpse "^^^ laid '" the gravn, 
And I kissed the mournful maid, 

I plighted my troth with an awful oath. 
That she never should be betrayed ! 

"The while, I stood, in a murderous mood, 
With my heel on the upturned clod, 

To kick the head of the ghastly dead 
If it rose above the sod I 

"Ah, God ! how swift speed the moments of gric^f 
On the wings of expectant bliss ! 

How soon cease to flow the streamlets of woe, 
When sipped at their source in a kiss ! 

"Scarce a fortnight ^^"* sped, '^'^^'^ I knelt ''' '''' bed 
Of the motherless mountain maid, 

And I vowed and I swore, as I'd done before. 
That she never should be betrayed. 

"Ah, God ! the fierce flash '" "^ phrenzied brain, 

And in my hot blood the thrill ! 
When the '"''^* ^" despair '^'^'p^ her hands *" prayer, 

And yielded to my will ! 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. IW 

^' The morning came, and the golden sun 

Rose over the mountaio's crest ; 
When my plighted truth with my awful oath 

Dissolved with the morning mist ! 

*' The maiden was mine — my slave ! my toy ! 

To be caressed or cursed ! 
And again was I glad to go from bad 

To worse, and then to worst ! 

*' But, in good or evil, a god or devil, 

Unto the mountain maid, 
8he knelt at the head oi' my midnight bed 

And for my welfare prayed. 

"Ah, Grod ! to see that woman of worth 

Devote to me her life ! 
Had I not burst into being accursed 

I had worshiped in her a Wife ! 

*' A Wife self sacrificing, fond, 

To hallow the humblest clod ; 
And to lift into heaven sinful Man forgiven, 

With the earthy arms of God ! 

" But I had burst into being accursed, 
And I could not worship a wife — 

Nor the heaven- blest °'''*^®'" when enclosing another 
She lives a double life ! 

" For scarcely had eight months come and gone, 

When lo ! in murderous mood, 
I led the maid- mother through the shade 

Of the mountain's leaty wood. 

"The bird was blithe on the birch-tree bough, 

And mirthful music made ; 
But blither was I without melody 

Unto the mother-maid. 

" ' There dwells a man of God,' I began, 

' In a humble hut of stojie, 
Beyond the edge of the White-Rock ledge, — 

Come, he shall make us one. 



150 THE HOARY OLD HERO OP HELL. 

" 'Come, he shall make us man and wife,' 

I softly said, and smiled ; 
' And a heaven of earth beyond the birth 

Of our love-begotten child.' 

" The violet blue, when bathed in dew, 

Is bright in the morning sun ; 
But brighter her eye, when she said, 'Till I die, 

God's will through thine be done ! " 

" She took my arm, as we walked along. 
Through the wild unbroken heath ; 

When I felt how great was her double weight. — 
And hot and short her breath. 

" ' Come, let us rest a moment, here,' 

I said to the mountain maid, 
' On the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, — 

Come, do not be afraid — 

'' ' For why, God wot, 'tis a hallowed spot ; 

For here, thou savedst my, life. 
To be unto me to eternity 

My Savior in a Wife ! ' 

" On the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, 

We stood with bated breath — 
She, light in her love as the bright height above, 

I, dark as the depth beneath ! 

"When lo ! from out of the darkness came 
Unto me, in my murderous mood, 

A lightning flash, with a thunder crash, 
That burned my brain and blood ! 

"I seized the woman by the neck. 

And, with resistless force, 
O'er the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, 

I hurled her with a curse ! 

" But God have mercy on my soul ! 

And Christ thee save and see, 
My beardless boy, in thy guileless joy, 

For the rest thou givest me ! — 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 151 



"The woman fell ; but on a crag. 

Scarce a foot or twain beneath 
The ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, 

She clung with the clutch of Death ! 

"I could have saved the double life 

That hung suspended there ; 
For the wind from below began to blow, 

And raised to my hand, her hair ! 

" The wind from below began to blow, 
And raised to my hand, her hair ; 

And in the breath that came from beneath, 
I heard the woman's prayer ! 

" 'Thy will, God, be done on earth, 

As it is done in heaven ! 
But let the love of a mother move 

The father to be forgiven ! ' 

" But I had burst into being accursed, 
And closed to Christ were my ears; 

For what is addressed to the Grod of the blest 
The de'il of the damned never hears 1 

'- And again, from out of the darkness came 
Unto me, in my murderous mood, 

A lightning flash, with a thunder crash, 
That burned my brain and blood. 

" I seized a stone, and, looking down 

Into the upturned eye, 
I raised it above the look of love 

That beheld me, e'en then ! in the sky ! 

"And, I held it above the look of love, — 
Till, down went the ragged stone 

With a hurried rush of the air, and a crush 
Of living flesh and bone ! 

'' And the rolling head of a brain benumbed 

Hung over the depth beneath ; 
While fast to the edge of the White-Rock ledge 

Clutched the rigid fingers of Death ! 



I5Z THE ETOARY OLD HERO' OF HELL, 

''When, kneelino: down on the ragged stoiae, 

In an attitude of prayer^ 
With a blasphenaous curse that redoubled my force-, 

I kicked the corpse clitiging there I 

'" I heard — a scraping, tearing sound — 

And then a distant thud ! — 
When all was still — as Death — until 

I heard noy throbbing blood ! 

"'Until I heard my throbbing blood 

W^ithin my heart and brain I 
With every beat that thud repeat, 

And the awful curse of Cain I 

'• Upon my belly then I fell, 

x\nd began like a snake to crawl ; 

Lest over the edge of the AVhite-Rock ledge, 
In my wickedness I should fall ! 

•Ah, God I the flash in my fearful brain, 

And in my blood, the chill, 
When I felt the first pang of the worst, 

That I never myself could kill I 

'" Aback I crawled from the dizzy edge, 
And adown the fearful height — 

And then beneath — until dear Death 
Appeared in my sight ! 

• Ah, God ! how calm and sweet the look 

Of Death to the accursed ! 
I gazed at the dead before me laid. 

Till my eye-balls seemed to burst ! 

•'And then I began to form a plan 

To bury the dead out of sight; 
But I tried in vain to stand again 

Erect in manhood's might ! 

'' For on my neck the double weight 

Of the mother-maid was hung ; 
While my fingers closed into those of the ghost 

That to the clifi"-edge clungl 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OP HELL. 153 



"Ah, God ! the dead before me laid, 

I could not even touch ; 
For when I placed mj hand on the waist, 

It shrank a way from mj clutch ! 

"It was the living within the dead ! 

And from that moment for aye, 

I became in the dead the living laid, 
To never — never die ! 

"Adowu the mountain side I crept, 

And into the town in the vale ; 
Where every man whom I met began 

To tell me an awful tale — 

'Of a dark deed done by the Evil One 

In a fondling father's guise — 
Beneath the edge of the White-Rock ledge 

A murdered mother lies ! 

" But I never raised my heavy head, 

• Nor to the tale replied. 
Till I cursed the Law for refusing to draw 
The gibbet noose, when I lied ! 

'• 'Not Guilty !' I said, with a toss of my head, 
And withdrew my neck from the noose ; 

For, to speak the truth, with my evil mouth. 
My tongue I could not loose. 

" When lo ! my mother appeared in court. 

With my father's silken purse ; 
When the solemn oath dissolved into froth, 

And then into naught, with my curse. 

'"Not Guilty ! ' returned the jury suborned ; 

While the judge gave a knowing look ; 
When I tied my shoes with the dangling noose, 

And crawled outside the dock ! 

" I crawled outside the dock with a groan ! 

While to the railing I clung. 
As upon the edge of the White-Rock ledge. 

The murdered mother hung ! 



154 THE HOAKY OLD HERO OF HELL. 

*■' While one and all my path forsook 

With a shudder and a groan ; 
Until, as I^d burst into being accursed, 

With my mother, I was alone I 

'' Ah, God ! the woe of the wretched heart, 

No human tongue can tell ! 
When the mother that nursed becomes the worst 

Embodiment of hell ! 

''I began to curse — when lo ! my lips 

Became as a statue's dumb ; 
Then I tried to cut my mother's throat, 

When my limbs grew weak and numb [ 

" And still with a love that increased with age^ 
She pierced my wretched heart ! — 

Ah, God ! the curse that made her love worse 
Than a barbed and poisoned dart ! 

" When, at length, at my side, in bed she died, 

Where I lay sick and alone — 
Crooked, shriveled, and thin, and hoary with sin, 

Like a bent and bearded bone I 

" And there she lay, while the summer's sun 

Shone like a glowing coal ! 
Till, with every breath, my mother in death, 

Made a sickening stench of my soul ! 

" And there she lay, while the summer's sun 

Upon her rotting fell. 
Till I lay in bed, the living dead 

Devouring my mother in hell ! 

" For the hell-hound °^ hunger "^^^ gnawing within 

And must be glut with food I 
And I was accursed with a hellish thirst, 

Till I sucked my mother's blood ! 

"I ate her flesh and I drank her blood, 

Until I was alone — 
Crooked, shriveled, and thin, and hoary with sin, 

Abed with another bone ! 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OP HELL. 155 

''•When lo ! there appeared a beauteous maid 

In pity, at my bed ; 
And she buried the bone of my mother alone, 

And lay down in its stead ! 

"But pang upon pang is the pastime of hell, 

One woe upon another ; 
Than that beauteous maid beside me laid, 

I had rather my rotting mother ! 

*' For why ? God wot, her eye was blue. 

And golden was her hair ; 
And she knelt at the head of my midnight bed 

In holy, holy prayer ! 

" We lived together as man and wife, 

For twenty years and one ; 
And she bore me seven fair daughters of Heaven, 

But never a sin-sired son ! 

"And one by one my daughters died, 

Ere they could sin or shame — 
All save the first of the seven nursed 

In holy wedlock's name ! 

" When, her hands *"" her breast, ^^^'" mother *■' rest, 
Made an end of her holy life — 

Ah, God ! to dwell in the hot-blast of hell 
With an angel of Heaven to wife ! 

" But pang upon pang is the pastime of hell, 

One woe upon another ; 
Than the beauteous first of the seven nursed, 

I had rather their angel mother ! 

" For why ? God wot, her eye was blue, 

And golden was her hair ; 
And she knelt at the head of my midnight bed 

In holy, holy prayer ! 

" When lo ! as she hied to the mountain side 

To dig the raw-red root 
To bring relief to her father's grief 

With the breath of death in his throat ! 



156 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 

"On the trodden ground a snake she found, 

Benumbed with an early frost ; 
When, the senseless form unto life, to warm, 

She laid it in' her breast. 

'•And when she stood beside my bed, 
With the precious raw-red root, — 

Christ ! Christ ! behold ! a serpent of gold 
Coiled around her throbbing throat ! 

" Christ 1 Christ ! behold ! a serpent of gold 

Looked into her upturned eye ; 
And, while hissing it rang, it sank its fang — 

That before me my daughter might die ! 

"Down fell the maid across my bed, 

Where I lay sick and alone — 
Crooked, shriveled, and thin, and hoary with sin, 

Like a bent and bearded bone ! 

" When the serpent of gold uncoiled ^'*™ the neck 

Of my daughter on the bed 
And began to twine in coils about mine. 

And to raise its awful head ! 

" Till lo ! it looked into my eye, 

While, with hissing loud it rang. 

And, to kill in vain, again and again, 
It darted its deadly fang ! 

"While my daughter's corse, across me laid. 

In the winter's breath of frost. 
Congealed into another woe — 

A ghastly, icy ghost ! 

"And on my breast lay the icy ghost, 

In its hand the raw-red root, 
Till my blood ran as cold as the golden fold 

Of the snake around my throat ! 

" And on my breast lay the icy ghost. 
Till my beard froze over my mouth. 

When I was accursed with a burning thirst 
In a hell of eternal drouth ! 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 157 

^' But pang upon pang is the pastime of hell, 

One woe upon another — 
I had but felt that ni}' beard would not melt, 

When I began to smother ! 

*'To smother, God wot ! while I lay in the bed, 
With the ghost and the serpent, alune — 

Crooked, shriveled, and thin, and hoary with sin, 
Like a bent and bearded bone ! 

^' When lo ! a blast of the wind swept past, 
And carried me through the air, 

To the ragged edge of the White-Rock ledge, 
And left me clinging there ! 

"And left me clinging there — and for aye I 

Doomed, as I lived to damn ! 
For I had burst into being accursed — 

I Philip Rogers am ! 

"I am the living dead, God wot, 

Of whom the people tell, 
Whenever a maid by man is betrayed — 

The Hoary old Hero of Hell ! " 

With a sudden start, the beardless boy 
Sprang up from the frosty ground. 

And stared aghast — while the angry blast 
Swept by with a sullen sound ! 

But in the dim light of the dawn. 

He saw nor comrades twain, 
Nor the damned ghost of bone and frost 

That phrenzied yet his brain ! 

He saw but the spot, where a fire he had Ibuilt 
To protect against frost and fright, 

Beneath the edge of the White-Rock ledge, 
Where he must pass the night. 

Adown the mountain side he rushed, 
And entered his mother's door — 

" My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done, 
Thou'st never done before ! 



158 THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 

"' But yester morn, thine eye was bright, 
And blood-red was thy cheek — 

My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done, 
That thou hast not tongue to speak ! " 

"Oh, I have been coursing the red, red fox 

Upon the mountain side, 
Till, belated I lay till the dawning of day," 

The beardless boy replied. 

"Thy hounds I ^^''^ kenneled ^"-^ "^^'''^^ over night, 
And no ticks in their hair, I espy — 

My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done, 
That thou hast the tongue to lie ! " 

"Oh, I have been waiting the red, red deer. 
At the lick on the mountain side. 

Till belated I lay till the dawning of day," 
The beardless boy replied. 

" Thy rifle has hung on its pins over night. 

Above my unguarded bed — 
My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done. 

That hath made thee the living dead ! " 

" Oh, I have seen a damned ghost, 

Upon the mountain side. 
Beneath the edge of the White-Rock ledge," 

The beardless boy replied. 

" If thou hast seen the damned ghost. 

Where Polly Williams fell,— 
My son ! my son ! the deed thou hast done 

Of the Hoary old Hero of Hell ! 

" Come, come, my son, and break thy fast — 
But wherefore dost thou start ! — 

Come, come, and eat of thy mother's meat, 
And drink the blood of my heart ! 

"Come, come, my son, ere upon my corse. 

The sun glows like a coal, 
When with every breath thy mother in death 

Will make a stench of thy soul ! " 



THE HOARY OLD HERO OF HELL. 159 



The beardless boy, with a heavy head, 
Crept out of' his mother's sio;ht ; 

And lo ! by the edge of the White-Rock ledge, 
He has taken a hurried flight ! 

He has taken a hurried flight, God wot, 

Across the mountain and moor. 
Until he stood in a lonely wood, 

Before a cabin door, — 

Where, hark ! he hears a voice within 

Appealing unto heaven — 
''Oh, may the love of a mother move 

The father to be forgiven ! " 

And he has taken a woman in black, 

Unto the kirk of stone, 
Where the holy priest through the love of Christ 

Has made them one flesh and bone. 

"And he has taken a woman in white, 

Away from the kirk of stone. 
Till lo ! on the edge of the White-Rock ledge, 

He stands with his bride alone ! 

And he has knelt with his bride in white, 

In holy, holy prayer ; 
And God has he blest for giving: him rest 

From clinging in hell ever there ! 

And down the mountain side has he gone, 
And entered his mother's door — 

'' My son ! my son ! what deed hast thou done — 
I ne'er saw this woman before ! " 

"Oh, I have taken this woman to wife, 

Unto the kirk of stone. 
Where the holy priest through the love of Christ 

Has made us one flesh and bone ! 

" My son ! my son ! the deed thou hast done 

Of a bearded man and good ! 
No more shalt thou eat of thy mother's meat, 

And drink of her heart's hot blood ! 



160 THE SALT, SALT SEA, 

"Thine eye has regained its winsome light, 

And red, red is thy cheek, 
While the tongue of Truth hangs rn thy n:)oufcb 

The word of God to speak. 

'' The word of God to speak alway, 

And thy tale of torture to tell. 
Whenever a maid by man is betrayed — 

The Hoary old Hero of Hell I 

'' That thou mayest give a moment of rest 

Unto the living dead — 
He that sleeps in sin, while his conscience withiD, 

Makes a hell for his soul of his bed ! " 



— 1813 — 

THE SAL1\ SALT SEA. 



The history of the first salt well in Southwestern 
Pennsylvania is given as follows, in the little book of 
iny worthy friend, Mr. Thomas J. Chapman, entitled 
" The Valley of the Conemaugh," and printed 
at Altoona, in 1865 — 

" The manufacture of salt has long been a prosper- 
ous business in this county. These salt-wells are prin- 
cipally to be found along the banks of the Conemaugh. 
The existence of salt water in this section was indicated 
by the oozing of water, slightly brackish, through the 
fissures of the rocks. About the year 1813, when salt, in 
consequence of the war, was extravagantly high, Mr. 
William Johnston, an enterprising gentleman, deter- 
mined to perforate the rock, and ascertain whether 
there was not some valuable fountain from whence all 
these oozings issued. He commenced operations on the 
bank of the Conemaugh, near the mouth of the Loyal- 
hanna, and persevered until he had reached tne depth 
of 450 feet, when he struck an abundant fountain, 
strongly impregnated with salt. He immediately pro- 
ceeded to tubing the perforation to exclude the fresh 
water, erecting furnaces, pans, and other fixtures, and 
was soon in the full tide of successful experiment, mak- 
ing about thirty bushels per day, all of which was 
eagerly purchased at a high price. Mr. Johnston's suc- 
cess induced others to embark in the business, most of 
whom were successful. Vei'y soon the hitherto silent 



THE SALT, SALT SEA. 161 

and solitary banks of the river were all bustle, life, and 
enterprise. The canal which was afterward made to 
pass through this region, brought the most avail- 
able means of transportation to these works, and 
salt formed one of the chief staples of com- 
merce of that section." 



A has — a. horrible, hideous hag 

As ever haunted the night ! 
As loathesome and foul as the graveyard ghoul 

Pursued by the lash of light ! 

And yet she was a woman of worth, 

A daughter devoted to duty, 
A mother that smiled with the lips of her child - 

An angel of goodness and beauty ! 

Her father — behold yon wicked wight, 
Yon crooked and cankered man, 

That stands beside the seething tide 
Of the salt, salt sea in his pan. 

While anon he feeds the glowing fire, 

With many a hitch and halt, 
As he toils away from day to day 

To sever the sea from its salt. 

As if he fed the fire of hell. 

To sever his soul from its sin ; 
For, from his birth, like the salt in the earth, 

In him hath wickedness been. 

Aye, as if he were, beside the pan 

Of seething salt and evil. 
The truth to tell, in the hold of hell. 

None other than the Devil. 

For he it was — this sinful sire, 

That turned her mouth awry, 
And robbed her face of ever trace 

Of its humanity. 

When, but a child with big blue eyes, ^ 

She followed to the fire, 
Where in sport she ran by the seething pan, 

Provoking a splash in his ire. 



162 THE SALT, SALT SEA\ 

A splash of the seething salt, salt sea, 

A splash of the sea of sin, 
That instantly scarred and forever marred 

Her face frouj forehead to chia ! 

Her mother — behold you wretched dame, 

Her wan cheeks wet with tears. 
Blind, deaf, and dumb, and to feeling Duml> 

Save to that inwrought in- her fears. 

But weep as she may from morn till night, 

The sea will never be dry, 
She tastes in her mouth the sins of her youtb 

In the salt that comes froQ> her eye. 

For she it was — this woman accursed, 
That reddened her daughter's eye, 

And robbed her face of every trace 
Of its divinity. 

When, but a child, her daughter played 

Upon the beaten path, 
A flaming brand sped from the hand 

Of this wretched mother in wrath, — 

That seared her brow with its glowing point. 
And burned her eye with its flame, — 

That instantly scarred and forever marred 
Her face with her mother's shame. 

Aye, a hag she was — a hideous hag ! 

What could she else have been ? 
The daughter of evil — begat by the Devil 

Within the womb of sin ? 

And yet she was a woman of worth, 

A daughter devoted to duty, 
A mother that smiled with the lips of her child — 

An angel of goodness and beauty ! 

For her hand was steady and patient and kind 

To hold the spoon to the mouth 
Of her mother benumbed by palsy and dumbed 

By the salt, salt sins of her youth. 



THTE SKUI, SAXT SEA. 163 



And her foot was ready and rapid aod sure, 

Upon the puncheon floor, 
To go ere the word could be spoken and heard. 

On errand or cabin «hore. 

While her fe^sd was full of cares and carks, 

From morning until night, 
To bake and to brew, to shape and to sew, 

And to hide her face from the sight — 

Of all mankind in one in her sire, — 

Lest, with resistless foroe. 
The sea of salt rise with his fault 

And wreck him in remorse. 

While her heart was full of gratitude, 

From evening until morn. 
That she was blest with the babe on her breast — 

Albeit a bastard born. 

Albeit a babe begat in tho dark, 

To a father that fled dn afi"right 
From the graveyard ghoul so loathesome and foul, 

That appeared with the morning light. 

For a Christ she beheld in her blessed babe, 

With his golden yellow hair. 
And his gleaming eyes of the morning skies 

When the mornings are warm and fair ! 

A dainty dimple in his cheek — 

Another in his chin — 
As if the earth had emerged in his birth 

From the salt, salt sea of sin ! 

As if her sire had fed the fire 

Beneath the seething pan, 
Until the sea of its salt was free — 

And he a sinless man. 

As if her dumb, deaf dame and numb. 

Had drained the salt sea dry, — 
Till her joyful tear was as pure and clear 

As the rain-drop in the sky. 



164 THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. 

As if the sins entailed by birth 

Had been for aye forgiven, 
And the mother smiled with the lips of her child, 

An angel of bliss in heaven ! 

The while she sang a lullaby — 

Anon a solemn dirge, 
When she saw two clouds in the shape of .^hrouds 

Rise from the salt sea surge. 

And her father and mother were gone and for aye, 

Into the determined dust ; 
And the seething pan of the sinful man 

Was but a rim of rust, — 

Where a little boy played in the light of the sun, 

From morning until even, 
While his mother's eye, in her home hard by. 

Was a guardian angel's in heaven. 

Aye, a hag of the salt-works of old was she. 
And scarred with the seething brine. 

But who will not say, in the heart-seeing day, 
That her face with her heart was divine ? 



— 1820 — 

THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. 



The phenomenon, upon which the story in the fol- 
lowing poem is based, according to tradition, occurred 
in the year 1820 — the valley of Ligonier, lying between 
the Laurel Hill and the Chestnut Ridge, being lifted so 
high into the air, that, in the town of Mount Pleasant. 
on the west of Chestnut Ridge, the village of Stahlstown 
ten miles distant on the east of this mountain range, 
could be seen so distinctly that houses, barns, roads, 
and orchards could be distinguished by persons familiar 
with the scene. At a late period, as the writer has been 
informed by a credible person who witnessed it, this 
curious mirage has been seen in the same place. A par- 
allel instance is recorded by Brocklesby as follows — 

"A most extraordinary instance of the mirage oc- 
curred at Hastings, on the coast of Sussex, on the 26th 
of July, 1798. The cliffs of the French coast are fifteen 



•THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. \\jl 



miles distant from this town, and in the usual state of 
the atmosphere, are below the horizon and completely 
tiid from view; but on the day mentioned, at five 
o clock P. M., they were seen exteziding to the right and 
ieft for several leagues, and apparently only a few miles 
off. As the narrator, Mr. Latham, walked a^'on- the 
shore, the sailors, who accompanied him, pointed out 
and named the different places on the opposite coast 
which they were accustomed to visit. By the aid of a 
telescope, small vessels were plainly seen at anchor in 
the French harbors, and the buildings on the heights 
beyond were distinctly visible. 

" The Cape of Dungeness, which at the distance of i6 
miles from Hastings, extends nearly two miles into the 
sea. appeared quite close to the town, and the fishintr 
boats, that were sailing at the time between the two 
places, were magnified to a high degree. This curious 
phenomenon continued in its greatest beauty for more 
than three hours. The day was extremely hot. with- 
out a breath of wind." 



While the mother slept, the maiden crept 

In silence to the duor, 
Her own mistress to be, and the world to sec 

As never she'd seen before. 

With a hurried breath, she crossed the heath, 

In the light of the stars above, 
Never turning her head while away she sped, 

Till she came to a gloomy grove. 

Here feeling her heart beat as if it would break. 
She stayed in her stolen flight, ' 

And turned in dread to go back to her bed 
When lo ! she beheld a light ! ' 

She beheld a light in her mother's hand. 

In the gloom of the night afar, 
Darting here and there to anxious fear — 

Like a wandering fallen star. 

But the maid in her musing had fled far away, 
And, feeling her guilt in her heart, 

She less feared the night than the searching light 
And made another start. ' 



166 THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. 

On — through the gloom of the leafy grove, 
Where, taking the broad highway, 

She pursued her flight throughout the night 
Until the dawn of day. 

When sitting down upon a stone 

Beside a babbling brook. 
She began to eat of the stolen meat 

She had read of in the Book. 

When, behold ! a woodman, with his axe, 
Came, whistling like the thrush, 

That, perched on the height of the tree in the light, 
Cheered his mate in the shaded bush. 

And he was as fair in the face as the dawn, 

And shapely in his form ; 
Albeit his beard and hair appeared 

As if shorn by the shears of a storm. 

Aye, man and woman will greet when they meet, 
In the dawn on the highway of life. 

When all is bright in the golden light 
And unseen are sin and strife. 

The poll of the axe sank deep in the moss 
At the feet of the woodman so fair. 

While he spake of the sky of night in her eye, 
And the raven's wing in her hair. 

While the maiden sate on the brink of the brook. 

And looked at the rippling glass 
That daintily made in her vision a shade 

Of more than he feigned in her face. 

Of more than he feigned in her face — himself ! 

Approaching her with his speech. 
Till, his axe falling down with a click on a stone. 

She trembled within his reach. 

Aye, all and more than he feigned, she saw 

In the mirror of the stream, 
Till in the bliss of a rapturous kiss, 

She closed her eyes in a dream. 



THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. 167 

She closed her eyes io a dream, and heard 
Only music that lulled to a sleep, 

In a lover's arras that knew no alarms, 
Deliriously deep ! 

" Come, come with me, my love and life, 
From the lisht of the glaring day. 

To the bower of shade by the wild-wood made 
Beyond the trodden way. 

" Come, come with me, my love and life. 

Where none can ever see — 
Though thy mother's eye were in the sky 

Above the greenwood tree." 

The maiden rose from her resting stone 

Beside the rippling brook. 
And, with feverish blood went into the wood. 

With never an upward look. 

Until, behold ! a fire-bird* flit 

Before her down cast eyes — 
A bird of fire rising higher and higher, 

And leading her looks to the skies I 

Where, Christ behold ! the maiden saw — 

Above the mountain's crest, 
Over which in the night she had taken her flight 

From the east unto the west — 

The home of her childhood in the sky ! 

As plainly as sight can see, 
When the scene is near and the sky is clear, 

And the soul in the eye seems to be ! 

The home of her childhood in the sky — 

The cabin and the grove. 
The white school-house amid the green boughs, 

And the church on the hill above ! 

The church on the hill above the school. 
And the graveyard in white and grey, 

Where, on a mound in the sacred ground, 

She had learned from her mother to pray I 



168 THE JIAID AND THE MrKAGE; 

With her cheeks dripping web '''*^ *® salt, salt tears- 

Of the soul that was in her eye, 
The maiden sank on her knees to thank 

Her God for His Hand in the sky f 

On the brink-edsre of hell the m-aiden f^ll. 

As never she fell before. 
And prayed that, foro:iven, to her home in heaveo, 

God in mercy would her restore I 

When, gathering strength as she prayed to God, 

The maiden rose from the ground. 
And fled in fear — like a timid deer 

That hears on its heels the hound. 

Aye, fled in fear from the hell behind 

In the woodman ^s rapturous arms, 
That lulled to a deep delirious sleep 

The lynx of the maiden's alarms. 

While the woodman stood in wonder aghast 

At the vision in the sky, — 
Of the home that revealed a heaven concealed ' 

To the soul in the maiden's eye. 

While the woodman stood in wonder aghast, 

Till the vision had vanished, as well f_ . 

As the spirit ha4 sped where the vision led fK(^ 
To heaven away from hell. 

AVhen, markiui; the course of the fleeing maid 

Beyond the mountain's crest, 
As on she sped without turning her head 

Aback unto the west — 

He followed before the summer was spent, 

And found the happy land, 
Which into his sight o'er the mountain's height 

God had lifted in His right hand. 

And he found the happy home of the maid, 

And thrice he turned to stare, 
Ere he saw in her eye the midnight sky, 

And the raven's wing in her hair. 



THE MAID AND THE MIRAGE. 169 

And thrice she looked in the stranger's face, 

And at his irhapely form, 
Ere she saw the beard and the hair that appeared 

As if shorn by the shears of a storm. 

For her cheek "^""^ ''^ white ^^ *^® windflower'sf bloom 
In the mist of the mountain-side ; 

As if her soul had diffused thro' the whole 
Of her being when she cried. 

While he was shorn and shaven, God wot, 
As never was woodman before, — 

While, on his back a coat of black, 
As became a wooer, he wore. 

And ere the autumn had come and gone 

The wedding word was given, 
And the bride and groom found in their home 

Their Grod-appointed heaven. 

And long lived they in happiness. 

Nor sought to understand — 
How into their sight in broad day-light 

God had lifted up the land. 

Nor why, but to save them from the grave 

Of sin, and sorrow, and death, 
To live a life as man and wife 

With an immortal breath. 

Nor shall the poet further inquire ; 

SuiBfice it unto youth. 
That heaven appears to the eye in tears 

That turns from hell, in truth. 



* The scarlet tanager, Pyranga rubra, is called the 
fire-bird in Southwestern Pennsylvania. Its plumage 
is brilliantly red, 

f The windflower, Anemone nemorosa — a dainty 
floral gem of the early spring familiar to every rambler 
through the wilds of Old Westmoreland, which is as 
worthy of consideration by the poet as the spring- 
beauty, the jossakeed of the Indians, Claytonia 
Virginica. 



170 THE HKADLESS HEART.. 

— 182.5 — 

THE HEADLESS HEART. 



The Rattlesnake Bond which furnishes the basis of 
the following story of sympathy is a m-atter of reeoi^S 
in Westmoreland county. 



It is a poor and simple man, 

And he his cause hath lost, 
When, getting no bail, he lieth in jail, 

For payment of the cost. 

And he hath sate the livelong day, 

And eke the livelong night. 
His hard hands a bed for his heavy head, 

A wretched, weeping wight. 

The while the rat, with a jet black eye, 

Both run from out its hole. 
And eat the bread on the table laid, 

And drink of the brimful bowl. 

The while the cob* goeth up and down. 
From his head to the cell's low roof. 

Till his sunburnt hair and its strands of air 
Are woven like warp and woof. 

When lo ! the jailer hath come to the door. 
And beholds the wretched man, 

And the spider above in the web it hath wove, 
And the rat at the brimful can. 

And lie hath run to fetch his wife, 
And eke his babe, to the door, 

To see the sight in broad day-light, 
That never was seen before ! 

When lo ! the three have come to the door, 
And behold the wretched man. 

And the spider above in the web it hath wove. 
And the rat at the brimful can. 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 171 

When — the blessing of God for aye be its dole, 

For its timely, timely shriek ! 
The baby bath wrought in its outcry what 

Nor mother nor father eould speak I 

The baby hath wrought, without reason *^ thought, 

All into sweet sympathy, 
Where the human heart, from the head apart, 

Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why. 

Up riseth the wretched, weeping man. 

With a sudden start and <3ry, 
Whil€ th€ rat in affright doth flee out of sight, 

And the spider goeth on high. 

Up riseth the wretched, weeping man, 

But only to sit again ; 
As if in his heart he feeleth th'C dart 

Of a sudden and sickening pain. 

"What aileth thee?" quo' the jailer forthwith, 

'* I pray thee to me tell, 
*' And thou shalt have what thou mayest crave, 

To ease thee in thy cell." 

But lo ! the wretched, weeping man, 

So haggard and so wild, 
Maketh answer none, but looketh upon 

The jailer's little child. 

'^Hast thou a babe?" quo' the jailer anon, 

" That thou dost mine behold ! '' 
The wretched wight replyeth outright, 

"A babe but nine days old !" 

"And its mother — " quo' the jailer's spouse, 
" How fareth it with thy wife ?" 

*' Abed she lyeth, " the wretch replyeth, 
" And looketh not like life ! " 

And now, behold, the jailer hath gone 

Unto the commissioners three, 
And what he hath seen and heard, I ween, 

He hath told in sweet sympathy. 



172 THE HEADLESS HEART. 

And merry men all, as they sit in the hall, 

Behold the commissioners three, 
And when ^^'^ have heard, '^^^ '" mirth ^*^« averred 

The prisoner must go free. 

And behold the clerk, with a cast-iron smirk, 
Hath drawn up a bond with a seal — 

"Now to us fetch the simple wretch. 
Who cannot think, but feel. " 

And behold the jailer hath fetched the wretch. 

Before the commissioners three, 
When the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk. 

Doth read the bond in glee — 

"That on mid-summer's day at noon. 

The prisoner do not fail. 
To bring unto the commissioners three, — 

Else, to go again to jail, — 

" For every dollar he oweth for cost, 

A foot of rattlesnake. 
Alive and sound, as may be found. 

For consideration's sake, — 

*'To wit : Full one and twenty feet. 

And a quarter to the nail, , 
With interest, as the bond expressed, 

The rattles on the tail." 

And why have the commissioners three 

Demanded this merry pledge ? 
The simple wight is a Ridger hight. 

Who dwelleth on Chestnut Ridge. 

And behold, the Ridger hath taken a pen 

And made a ragged cross. 
Where the wily clerk hath written "His Mark" 

When he the bond did engross. 

A ragged cross and a jagged cross. 

But the holy cross withal ; 
For on the spot, with an inky blot, 

A heart-wrung tear doth fall. 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 173 

And behold the clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, 

The merry bond hath filed ; 
And the simple wight hath taken his flight 

To be with his wife and child. 

And behold ! he hath entered his cabin door^ 

And seeth his babe at the breast 
Of its mother — dead ! on the lowly bed, 

Where she hath lain to rest. 

With a shriek, a gasp, a sob, and a sigh, 

The fainting father doth sink 
Across the dead, on the lowly bed, 

That in the cabin doth stink. 

And there he Keth until the babe 

Hath taken in its mouth 
Its father's thumb, and with hot lip and gum 

Essayeth to slake its drouth. 

When he awaketh from his swoon, 

And the babe at his thumb doth espy ; 

But what to do, he no more doth know, 
Than why it doth not die ! 

When lo ! a blast of the wind hath swept past 

And opened the cabin door 
And saveth his breath from the stench of death 

That sickeneth more and more. 

But what to do, he no more doth know 

Than the baby at his thumb ; 
For he hath a heart from his head apart, 

And in his dole he is dumb. 

When lo ! a butcher hath driven his herd 

Of cattle near the door, 
And the savor of death hath scented his breath, 

As it never did before. 

And, with whip in hand, he hath taken a stand, 

Before the opened room, 
Where shading his eyes, he ^^^^ bated breath, pries 

Into the tainted gloom. 



174 THE HEADLESS HEART. 

Till he seeth the dead on the lowly bed, 
And the babe at the horny thumb 

Of the simple wight, in his wretched plight, 
As the dead beside him, dumb ! 

When — the blessing of God for aye be its dole, 

For its timely, timely shriek ! 
The baby hath wrought in its outcry what 

Nor father nor butcher could speak ! 

The baby ^**^ wrought, without reason or thought, 

All into sweet sympathy. 
Where the human heart from the head apart 

Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why ! 

And behold the butcher hath entered the room, 
And taken the babe in his hand, 

And the father led, from the bed of the dead. 
Without where he did stand. 

And he hath seated the simple man 

Upon a moss-capped stone, 
And the baby placed to its father's breast, 

While he for food is gone. 

And he hath singled, from out his herd, 

A cow, with a crumpled horn, 
To be a mother in lieu of another 

To the babe but newly born. 

And to a bough, he hath tied the cow, 

And pressed her yielding teat, 
And dipped a rag, from his money bag. 

And given the babe to eat ! 

Ah, God ! for the father and butcher to see 

The greed of the starving child ! 
Till it droppeth the rag of the money bag. 

And hath fallen asleep and smiled ! 

The while it sleeps, the father weeps 

In mingled woe and joy — 
In woe for the dead on the lowly bed, 

In joy for his living boy. 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 175 



The while the butcher digs a grave, 

Between two ragged stones, 
And lays the dead in the earthen bed. 

While the father sobs and moans. 

And behold, while the father sobs and moans, 
The butcher hath entered the door, 

And the crevices shut of the humble hut, 
And kindled a fire on the floor. 

And kindled a fire on the earthen floor, 

Of herbs and hickorie. 
That the baby's breath from the stench of death. 

In the cabin may be free. 

And in a corner of the room. 

Some broken twigs across, 
A bed hath he made, and the baby laid 

Within a blanket of moss. 

And he hath taken the father out. 

Unto the neighboring tree, 
And taught him how to milk the cow, 

And the twain a mother to be. 

And he hath looked again at the babe. 

And left it a kerchief of silk, 
To eke out the rag of the money-bag, 

Till it drinketh of the milk. 

And he hath taken his whip in his hand, 
And gathered together his herd, 

All save the cow, tied to the bough. 
Which he leaveth without a word. 

And he hath gone far, far away. 

Till his home he doth espy — 
With the happy heart, from the head apart, 

That throbbeth, and knoweth not why. 

And he hath clasped to his bosom his wife, 

Within his cabin door. 
And lengthened his kiss with increasing bliss 

As never he kissed before. 



176 THE HEADLESS HEART: 

And he hath taken his toddling babe, 

And held it in his sight, 
Till, weeping with joy, he kisseth the boy^ 

With a new found dumb delight ! 

And he hath slain his herd one by oiie. 

And sold them in his stall, 
Till his bag doth ^''^ hold what he getteth in gol(3, 

Ere he hath killed them alL 

And he bath taken the bag to the baok. 

That, when he shall be dead, 
His wife and boy may never cry 

In want of daily bread. 

And he hath dressed his wife in a gowQ 

Of the self-same precious silk. 
As the piece he laid on the mossy bed. 

For the baby to suck its milk. 

Aye, he hath prospered, b3loved by all. 

In sweet, sweet sympathy. 
Where the human heart, from the head apart, 

Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why. 

The while the wight, the Ridger hight, 

Doth press the yielding teat 
Of the gentle cow, tied to the bough. 

And giveth the babe to eat. 

The while the wight, the Ridger hight, 

In faith to keep his pledge. 
Doth daily seek the deadly snake . 

That liveth on the Ridge. 

He leadeth the cow with a cautious hand. 
And holdeth the babe with another ; 

But, ah God ! as he goeth, he little knoweth, 
The risks of its double mother ! ' 

Until, behold ! he seeth a snake 

Upon his mountain path. 
Or, on the ground, he heareth the sound 

Of its rattle of ready wrath. 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 177 

When he tieth the cow to a bending bough, 
And holdeth the babe to his heart, 

And, knowiny; no fear, he cometh so near 
The snake, that it quiv'reth to dart ! 

When, quick as the lightning ^^^^ daggers the sky, 

With his naked hand and bare. 
He seizeth the neck of the deadly snake 

And raiseth it into the air ! 

While the lithe, lank form of the flattened snake 

Doth writhe around his arm. 
And its rattles shake, as if music to make 

For the baby its fang cannot harm ! 

While its rattles shake and music make, 

Till the baby croweth in joy — 
Ah, God ! the heart from the head apart 

That taketh a snake for a toy ! 

While its rattles shake and music make, 

Till the baby craveth its rag ; 
When the simple wight, in dumb delight, 

Casts the snake into a bag — 

A bag which he binds with a hickory string,f 

And hangeth about his neck — 
While boundeth his heart, from a head apart, 

Between the babe and the snake ! 

And then he goeth to the browsing cow, 

And presseth the yielding teat, 
And dippeth the rag of the money bag. 

And giveth the babe to eat. 

But day after day, the season hath sped, 

Till mid-summer dawns on the morrow^ 

When lacking three feet his bond to complete, 
The Bidger lieth in sorrow. 

The Bidger lieth in sorrow and dule, 

And in his wretchedness weeps. 
While, the twigs across in its blankets of moss, 

The baby sweetly sleeps. 



ITS THE HEADLESS HKART. 

The while, the midnight, musing owl 

Re-eehoeth through the wood. 
And the geatle cow^ beneath the bough ^ 

Is ehewinj; at her cud. 

When list I it is the child that wakes 

In its bed of twigs and moes ; 
It craveth the rag of the money bag^ 

And giveth it tongue in a toss.J 

And behold, from ^^ care-hed *^ father •*** risett. 

And pressed the yielding teat 
Of the gentle cow, beneath the bough ^ 

And giveth the babe to eat. 

And while he feedeth his fretful babe^ 

Christ Jesu ! his blood runneth cold 1 

For on bis arm he feeleth the form 
Of a moastrous serpent's fold I 

And on his hand, that holdeth the cup 

To the lips of his baby boy, 
He feeleth the feet that his bond will complete. 

When he warmeth again in joy I 

And on his fingers that guide the rag 
From the cup to the baby's mouth, 

He feeleth the neck of the deadly snake 
That slaketh there its drouth 1 § 

Ah, God I Thy mercy who doth not confess, 

Before he cometh to die, 
For the human heart, from the head apart, 

That throbbeth, and knoweth not why ! 

Behold this wight, in the dead of night, 

That findeth a secret joy — 
While he feedeth the snake of deadly make 

On the lips of his darling boy ! 

While from one and the self-same cup of milk, 

He feedeth life and death, 
And he findeth a joy in the serpent and boy 

Till he breathes with bated breath ! 



"THE HEADLESS HEAUl'. 179 

Yea, Grod ! Thj mercy all must confess, 

In guiding the father's hand, 
To his baby's mouth and th^ serpent's tooth 

While in darkness he doth stan-d ! 

Now, behold, the baby hath slaked its thirst. 

And croweth with delight, 
Till it throweth here and throweth there, 

Its bare arms, in the night ! 

When, hark ! within its bed of moss 

The rattle of the snake 
Beginneth to sound and i-e-echo around, 

Till the cabin seemeth to shake ! 

When the baby ear-charmed withholdeth '^ hands, 

And sinketh into sleep ! 
When the sound decreaseth — and finally ceaseth, 

When the serpent beginneth to creep. 

Till, behold, it hath crept from the father's hand, 

And adown his naked arm, 
And coiled, on the breast of the baby, to rest 

In sleep, well fed and warm ! 

The while the father, in the dark, 

Sitteth still on the earthen floor. 
And straineth his eye in hope to descry 

The dawn through the open door ! 

Until, behold, the eastern ridge ^ 

With its ragged crest of stone 
Doth sharply appear, as if cut in the air, 

By the silver shears of the Dawn ! 

Until, behold, the eastern sky 

Is fleshed with a crimson spray, 
And haired ^"^ the bright, s"^*^^" ringlets of light 

That hang on the brow of the Day ! 

Until, behold, the eastern vale 

Is a sea of liquid pearl. 
With — Is it a boat of diamond afloat, 

Or the eye of a merry girl ! 



180 THE' HEADLESS HEART. 

But seeth not this, the simple man, 
This bright mid-summer's morn. 

But a serpeot at rest on his baby's breast, 
As if they had been twiu-born ! 

And of all the serpents of death, the King,** 

With his crown upon his tail. 
And his sceptre, a tooth, within his mouth, 

To save a poor wight from jail ! 

To save a poor wight from a jail, with a cow, 
To mother his motherless child — 

The only thought of the Ridger, God wot, 
So simple, so haggard and wild ! 

When, quick as the lightning ^^^^ daggers the sky, 

With his naked hand and bare, 
He seizeth the neck of the deadly snake, 

And raiseth it into the air 1 

When lo! with a startled cry, the babe 

In terror doth awake — 
Till it heareth in joy the sound of its toy 

The crown of the regal snake 1 

Till it heareth in joy the sound of its toy, 

The crown of the regal snake. 
And feeleth the clutch, in its simple sire's touch, 

That maketh that fearful crown shake ! 

Yea, feeleth that clutch, in a tender touch 

That holdeth in sympathy, 
Where the human heart from the head apart, 

Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why ! 

Till lo ! the babe turneth from its toy, 

And craveth the nourishing rag, 
When the simple wight, in dumb delight, 

Casts the King into jail — in his bag ! 

But let us haste, for ere the sun 

Hath risen to mid sky, 
The Ridger must be with "*• commissioners three, 

As the bond hath said, to comply. 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 181 

And sixteen miles is a weary walk, 

On a warm mid-summer's morn, 
For the browsing cow at the wayside bough. 

And the gad on her crumpled horn. 

And sixteen miles is a weary walk, 

Even for th^ light foot of joy, 
That beareth a sack of snakes on the back>, 

And before a suckling boy. 

Aye, and sixteen miles is a weary way 

Unto the suckling boy. 
Although to beguile the lengthening mile^ 

He heareth the sound of his toy. 

But ere the sun of the midsummer's day. 

Hath risen to mid-sky — 
Behold ! what wonder appeareth yonder. 

And Cometh the court-house nigh ? 

Till the children bounding from the school 

Have gathered in the street — 
Where father and mother and sister and brother. 

Without knowing each other, meet ! 

Where the human head, fix)m the heart apart, 
Aye stareth, and feeleth no tie ; 

For father and mother and sister and brother, 
Are known not to the eye ! 

And behold, the throng of old and young 
Hath come to the court-house door, 

To stare at the sight, in broad day-light, 
That never was seen before ! 

A brindle cow with a crumpled horn. 
And a Bidger, haggard and wild. 

With a sagging sack of snakes on his back, 
And before, a suckling child ! 

The while the cow is tied to the pump, 
And the Bidger presseth the teat, 

And dippeth the rag of the money bag 
And giveth the babe to eat ! 



182 THE HEADLESS HEART. 

Until, behold ! in the midst of the throno; 

Agape at the wonderful sight, 
The babe looketh up from the empty cup, 

And croweth in delight ! 

When cheer "p°" cheer, with increasing good will, 

Groeth up unto the sky. 
From the hearts "' the young '"*'* *''* °'* "^ '^^ throng. 

In sweet, sweet sympathy ! 

The while the cow breaketh loose to run. 
And the Ridger standeth aghast. 

Between the sack of snakes on his back. 
And the babe upon his breast ! 

When lo ! the jailer appeareth to learn 
The cause of the sudden uproar, 

And, in dumb affright, he leadeth the wight. 
Within the court-house door. 

And so into the commissioners three. 

In the hall where they merrily sate. 

With the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk 
Of the devil that grins on a grate ! 

" But wit," quoth the clerk, ^'*^ ^^^ cast-iron smirk 
" What wanteth this fool with his child ? " 

For he hath forgot, as a thing of naught. 
The bond which he hath filed ! 

Up speaketh then the jailer, I ween, 
And calleth the bond to his mind ; 

When the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, 
The filed bond doth find. 

And readeth he then the bond again, 

Unto the commissioners three. 
While, standing before the oflBce door, 

The jailer turneth the key. 

"That on mid-summer's day at noon. 

The prisoner do not fail. 
To bring unto the commissioners three, — 

Or else, to go to jail, — 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 183 



"For every dollar he oweth for cost, 

A foot of rattlesnake, 
Alive and sound, as may be tound. 

For consideration's sake. 

"To wit: Full one and twenty feet, 

And a quarter to the nail, 
With interest, as the bond expressed, 

The rattles on the tail ! " 

When behold, the wight, the Ridger hight, 
While none but the jailer seeth, 

Hath unslung the sack of snakes from his back 
And opened it with his teeth. 

And he hath stepped away from the wall, 

The commissioners three before, 
And alive and sound, as may be found. 

He casteth the snakes on the floor ! 

Eight regal snakes with their sceptres and crowns, 
And among the eight, their King, 

With a crown of a score of ringjs and more, 
That above the rest doth ring ! 

When lo ! the merry commissioners three. 
Flee in horror and shriek in fear 1 

While the jailer stands with the key in his hands. 
And feigneth not to hear ! 

Till, the first of the three, lo ! upon the desk, 

He hath taken a frothing fit; 
While the next with a rule hath mounted a stool, 

And in tailor-fashion doth sit ! 

And the third in vain to the jailer kneels. 

And prayeth him to unlock ; 
While the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, 

Essayeth to climb the clock ! 

The while, again, the simple man. 

Doth stand in amaze and aff'right ; 

While his suckling boy, at the sound of his toy, 
Beginneth to crow in delight ! 



IM THE HEADLESS HEARTl- 

Till, Christ behold ! upon the floor, 

As the clock is striking at noon, 
The wily clerk, with the cast-iron &n>irky 

Hath fallen in a swoon ! 

Hath falle» in a sudden swoon. 

Before the serpent King, 
When — is it the gleam of a slanting beam, 

Or doth the serpent spring ? 

When — the blessing of God for aye be its dole. 

For its tinsely, timely shriek I 
The baby hath wrought in its outcry what 

The bitten clerk cannot speak I 

The baby ^"^ wrought, without reason or thought, 

All into sweet sympathy ; 
Where the human heart, from the head apart. 

Aye throbbeth, and knoweth not why I 

When quick, as the lightning that daggers the sky 
Goes the hand of the Ridger hight, 

Till into the sack he hath put every snake 
And drawn the closing-string tight. 

And down he hath knelt beside the clerk, 

In his deathly swooning dumb, 
And tied the rag of the money bag 

About his bleeding thumb ! 

And, Christ, behold ! he raiseth the thumb, 

Unto the baby's mouth. 
Who taketh the rag of the money bag 

To slake its burning drouth ! 

Ah, God ! hath ever the like before, 

Been seen beneath the sun ! 
Behold ! the blood of the dying, as food, 

Doth into the living run ! f f 

Aye, the poisoned blood of the dying, as food, 

Doth into the living flow 
To nourish the heart from the head apart, 

That throbbeth, and nothing doth know ! 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 185 

Aye, the poisoned blood of the foeman doth flow, 

As freely, as he is forgiven. 
Into the mouth of the suckling youth, 

Like another Saviour of Heaven ! 

The Babe, Grod wot, without reason or thought, 
That knoweth nor life nor death. 

While, in the heart from the head apart. 
It throbbeth in simple faith ! 

Now behold, the baby hath slaked its thirst 
With the poisoned blood of its foe, 

And it droppeth the rag of the money bag, 
With its red red lips to crow ! 

Till cheer upon cheer goeth up on high. 
From out the commissioners three ; 

When the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, 
Awaketh amazed at their glee ! 

Till the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, 

Beholdeth, and asketh why. 
On his thumb the rag of the money bag, 

And it red with a bloody dyel 

For well. I wot, he knoweth not 

What hath happened in his swoon — 

Aye, even to him in the height of his crime. 
When the clock struck the hour of noon I 

Aye, even to him in the height of his crime, 
When, but for his throbbing heart, 

His wicked head among the dead, 
Had been in hell set apart 1 

In hell had been set apart, I ween. 

The wrongs of his life to recall — 

What he hath done with his head alone. 
Until his sinful fall 1 

•But let us haste, for well I wot. 

No man can tether time — 
No, not with the cords which reason affords. 

Much less with the cobwebs of rhyme. 



l8G THE HEADLESS HEART. 



The jailer hath opened the court-house door, 

And hushed the impatient din 
Of the curious throng of old and youD^;, 

And told what hath happened within. 

When cheer upon cheer o;oeth up again. 

And the news speedeth through the town, 
Till behold on the stool of the fool in school 

The teacher sitteth alone t 

The while the merry commissioners three 

The Ridger hight engage 
To take the sack of snakes on his back 

And carry it off to the Ridge. 

And for every snake which he hath brought 
Unto them, that mid-summer's day, 

A dollar in gold unto him have they told 
To take the same away. 

The while the clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, 
Hath opened his purse and head, 

And paid for the rag of the money bag 
A bogus piece of lead ! 

A bogus piece of lead, God wot, 

The value of his soul, 
Which he putteth about the baby's throat 

W^ith a string drawn through a hole ! 

And behold, the baby hath taken the lead, 
And sucketh it in its mouth — 

And a deadlier bane goeth into its vein 

Than that of the serpent king's tooth ! 

The ingratitude of man unto 

His Saviour in a child ! 
Till behold, with its heart from its head apart, 

It hath on the monster smiled ! 

And behold, the jailer's wife hath come, 

Anfi many mothers more. 
And they have dressed the babe in the best 

That ever baby wore — 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 187 



A linen gown as white as snow, 

And a change of fleecy smocks, 
With a silken hood as red as blood. 

And a pair of worsted socks ! 

And well, I ween, had these mothers seen, 
With the eye of the heart and head, 

That the piece about the baby's throat 
Is a bogus piece of lead — 

They had taken the clerk, ^''*'^ the cast-iron smirk^, 

And slain him in their wrath ! 
But among the throng of old and young 

None seeth the token of death ! 

And now behold ! the Ridger hight, 

With victory elate, 
Appeareth before the court-house door 

And passeth through the gate. 

The while, hip, hip, hurrah ! with a will ! 

Ascendeth to the sky. 
From the throbbing throng of old and young 

In sweet, sweet sympathy ! 

When hark ! the piercing fife resounds, 

And eke the rattling drum ! 
What new thing now ? It is the cow 

That down the street doth come ! 

It is the cow with the crumpled horn, 
That yieldeth the babe its milk — 

And what doth deck its gentle neck 
But a bell on a ribbon of silk ! 

And while she cometh down the street, 

And her head she tosseth up, 
What " that *^''* doth gleam '"^ the ^"«^* sun-beam — 

Aye, what but a new tin cup ! 

And again behold, in the midst of the throng, 

The Ridger presseth the teat, 
And dippeth the silk int,o the milk 

And giveth the babe to eat. 



188 THE HEADLESS HEART. 

And the baby hath taken the butcher's silk, 
And the white, white milk doth flow, 

Till, looking up from the empty cup, 
The baby beginneth to crow ! 

When another hip and another hurrah, 

And another and a long, 
In sympathy goeth up on high 

From the throng of old and young. 

The while the jailer's winsome wife, 

And many mothers more. 
Weep tears, I wis, of bale and bliss, 

As never they wept before. 

Weep tears, I wis, of bale and bliss, 

As never they wept again. 
Save when they weep while at night they sleep, 

To forget the past day in vain ! 

Save when they weep, while in bed they sleep, 
And the Ridger hath sunk to rest, 

Beside the cow, beneath a bough, 
With his baby on his breast. 

With his baby on his breast — but alas ! 

Never sweetly to sleep there again ! 
For into its blood, ingratitude 

Hath diffused a restless bane ! 

What botes it, the babe, its linen gown, 

And the hood upon its head, 
And the change of smocks and the worsted socks, 

While it sucketh the baleful lead ! 

And what botes it, the father, his wealth of gold, 

And his freedom from the jail. 
When his throbbing heart from his head apart 

Knoweth not what the baby doth ail ! 

When bale is hext, then bote is next, 
The proverbJI sayeth in soothe — 

Aye, and when the text putteth bote with hext, 
And the bale in the baby's mouth ! 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 189 

ti is Ood and the Devil — good and evil, 
Hand in hand in life and death, 

With Man, I ween, but the waver between 
The in- and the out-going breath ! 

But who kaoweth this ! Not the Ridger hight, 

With his baby on his breast, 
Beside the cow, beoeath the bough, 

Throughout the long night of unrest. 

Nor when he to his cabin hath come, 

And sitteth on the floor, 
By the bed of moss where the baby doth toss, 

As never it tossed before. 

Till, behold, when a fortnight hath come and gone, 
And the babe hath ceased to fade — 

An the rose of the sun had silently grown 
To the wax-pipe§§ of the shade ! — 

The father sitteth in silent grief. 

And holdeth in vain the silk, 
To slake the drouth of the baby's mouth, 

With tears, as well as milk ! 

Till in despair, the simple man, — 

This heart without a head, — 
To cool it, forsooth, in the baby's mouth, 

He layeth the poisonous lead ! 

Until, behold, to seek the cow 

That hath wandered into the wood, 

The father hath drawn on the baby its gown, 
And put on its silken^ hood. 

And he hath taken the babe in his arms, 

And passed the cabin door. 
And followed the bell of the cow, to the dell, 

He hath never entered before. 

When lo ! he seeth the cow through the wood, 
And that further she wandereth not ; 

And he cometh upon a moss-covered stone 
In a cool and shady spot. 



190 THE HEADLESS HEART. 

And behold, he layeth his baby at rest — 
Its heart in the white of faith — 

Its head in the red of the blood by guilt shed — 
On its mouth the lead seal of Death ! 

And behold, the father upon the moss 

Doth from his baby creep, 
That he may not break a twig, and awake 

It from its sweet, sweet sleep ! 

But aye, the farther the father doth creep, 

From his sweetly sleeping child. 
The farther the cow seemeth at the bough, 

And the wood groweth more and more wild ! 

Till, behold, the father hath come to the cow, 

And pressed the yielding teat, 
And dippeth the silk in tears and milk 

To give to his baby to eat ! 

But he wandereth here and he wandereth there, 
Through the wood that is strange and wild, 

And he wandereth in vain to find again 
His sweetly sleeping child. 

Day in and day out, he wandereth about, 

A heart without a head ! 
But he wandereth in vain to find again 

The living among the dead ! 

Year in and year out he wandereth about. 

And seeketh the loved and the lost, 
Till, behold, the Heart from the Head apart, 

In the garb of a grizzled ghost ! 

A ghost that haunteth the mountain heath, 

And anon, in the silent gloom, 
Bendeth ^"^ to the *^"°'* as if there he hath found 

The babe in the wind-flower's bloom. 

Bendeth low to the ground, but in vain, in vain ! 

And riseth in grief renewed, 
Letting fall a tear, now here and now there, 

Into every flower of the wood. 



THE HEADLESS HEART. 191 

A ghost that haunteth the mountain height 

Whom seeth not the Eye, 
But whom the Heart from the Head apart, 

Aje feeleth, in sympathy. 

Aye feeleth in sweet, sweet sympathy. 

And in sympathy maketh it known ; 

For the world of the Heart from the Head apart 
Knoweth sympathy alone. 

AVhile the world of the Head is the living dead ; 

And the living dead is Hell ; 
As the wily clerk, with the cast-iron smirk, 

Most wittingly, doubtless, can tell ! 



* An old term for a spider still in common use in the 
compound word cobweb, that is, spider-web. 

t The withe or thong of hickory with which the 
Ridger mends his harness, ties his shoes, and fastens 
with generally is called in his vernacular, a string. 

i The body gives expression to its wants and cra- 
vings without co-operation with the brain. The acts of 
the body requiring cerebration to those which do not 
are as one to ten thousand. 

§ That the rattlesnake will feed on fresh milk is ac- 
cepted as a fact by the people generally, but whether or 
not a fact in fact I cannot say. But that this serpent has 
been found cosily coiled beneath the coverings of a bed 
in cabins on the ridge, is a verity to be vouched for by 
many residents of the rocky region of the Little World. 
Dr. Jackson, in "The Mountain," says of the house- 
snake of this region, "It frequents out-houses, and is 
said to drink milk from the farmer's pans in his 
spring-house." 

IT The Laurel Hill. 

** In the legendary stories of the mountains of 
Southwestern Pennsylvania, the rattlesnake superior to 
all others in size, in venom, in number of rattles, and in 
number of subjects in his den, the stench of which is 
noxious to the nostril for " more 'n forty rod, I reckun," 
is called the King. 

ft The venom of the rattlesnake is harmless In the 
stomach. A safe and expedient remedy for the bite of 
the serpent, accordingly, is suction by means of the 
mouth — an adult spitting out the poisoned blood which 
the baby is assumed to have swallowed as nourishment. 



192 THE HEADLESS HEART. 

The single act of thought in the Ridger in applying the- 
rag of the money-bag to the wounded thumb of the 
clerk, and then sticking the same in the mouth of the 
babe, is in accordance with the knowledge of rattle- 
snakes which has been accorded him from the outset — 
the bond of the commissioners, in point. In Hill's 
novel, " Tlie White Rocks, or tlie Robbers' Den," the 
witch of the naountaius, Molly Pry, sucks out the poison 
from the hand of Ned Stanton, saving his life without 
injury to herself, remarking —"The p'ison can^t hurt 
7ne. There aint a tooth in my head, nor has been for 
ten years. Where they once gro wed is all healed over 
and covered with gnnos» so there is no place for p'^ison to 
git to my blood, if I only spit it out, an' Molly's got 
sense enough for that." A quart of whisky, however, 
being the usual remedy, the number of snake- bites in a 
given locality to the number of snakes is prodigious, 
and the efficacy of the remedy gtbsolnte. 

X+ That is, when dangei*, hurt, or damage is at its 
height, then is assistance, the remedy, or the recom- 
pense the nearest to the sufferer. It is to be regretted 
that these good old words, bote and bale, and bale and 
bllsp, in their opposite significations, are passing out of 
use. Bote as boot in a bargain, and bale and bane in the 
compounds baleful, baneful, fleabane, ratsbane, etc., are 
sLill familiar words. Hext, the superlative of high, is 
the analogue of next, the superlative of nigh. A famil- 
iar synonym of the obsolete proverb. When bale is 
hext, then bote is next, is The darkest hour is just be- 
fore the dawn. 

§^ The wax-pipe, Monotropa uniflora, is one of the 
most, not^ible plants to be found in the woods of South- 
western Pennsylvania. Stem, leaf, and flower are color- 
less, semi-transparent, like moulded water and wax. It 
grows only in the depth of the forest, timidly lifting the 
edge of an overlying fallen leaf to show its ghostly sem- 
blance of a flower in the everlasting shade. Other com- 
mon names of this strange plant are Indian-pipe and 
bird's-nest. 



— 1830 — 

KING CORK AND JIM CROW. 

By a curious freak of old Dame Chance, the world is 
indebted to Southwestern Pennsylvania for both Negro 
Minstrelsy and Negro Melody: so CAWed — lucus a lu- 
cendo — because neither originated with the negro, nor 
has aqght of association with the negro, except through 



KING CORK AiND JIM CROW. 193 

the oddest of happenings in the ebnllitioD of an^^ 
onment in which his sable presence was but an appr " 
ciable savor. The first originated with Mr. James Srow 
a handsome humorist of Blairsville fiffv v^..o 
.on. since dea. : exeep. h.s .ettlr haira ZZTuX. 
• ate as the past wintpr f\f "7-0. . •♦. "uij, tl^s 

the ne,.hbL„o„d":?7/ee;;f,: Td Z!TJ:''T'^ 

of whom, more anon. «"«"y ^ny . 

thplTr ^T^ ""^""^ '''^'' prominence at the openingof 
the western division of the Pennsylvania canal in S 
He was one of the passengers aboard the " I^JyCiaT'' 

br th'T ?' '^' '"^'^ "' '"^ ^^"^^ Commissioner J when 
tor the first time in the annals of the Little WorMbe. 
t ween Blairsville and the First Tunnel below, the waters 
Of the west were divided in the rear of a tandem mule! 
utertb! '""^'''- ^"' ^^*^^" ^^^'^^ -P- to col b. 
laritvwft^ '^ bi« 

ense LT fant^r ^"' combination of rhythmical non- 
sense and fantastic caperings, which, in the general 
good feeling that prevailed, made a decided and lasting 

meZ"re~''""'K"""''^^^""^^^^ ^^-- o- tm? 
memoiable occasion being the familiar - 

Turnabout; wheel about; do just so' 

And every time you turn about, jump Jim Crow ' 

The excursion over, the happy combination of the 

-bTthfb":r""l'^.'"^""'"^^^^^ *^^ excursionists 
,.. . ..^ ^^""^^'"^^^^^^^w^the river to Free- 

fn t rblf Vx.''^"''"^^'^' "^^- ^^^ — <i Chap er 
n the history of Negro Minstrelsy begins. Here, it was 
the familiar catch of the season, it is to be suppored 
Chiefly among the boys white and black about the boats 
at the terminus of the canal and on the wharves of the 
r vers When lo! W. D. Rice, a low comedian of C n! 

cTurt'lheno' M ""'' "" engagement, and 

iTnlH f ^ V?" '''■ «^"«^ti«^ «f the place the moment he 
^nded from his boat, (or he had heard the song in Cin! 
omnati- no matter) to make use of it on the stage 
soon after with a success that established the descent of 
JimCrowasanewschoolof comedy forever. But be- 
hold the metamorphosis : mistaking the name Jim Crow 
for a personation of the negro character, » Daddy " Rice 

c^unt'erft?'' '"'' "^'^ ^"^"* ^«^^' ^^^ ^PP^-^^ -^^e 
rrifflfn l^T""^"^^^^^^^^^'^^'"^^ porter of 

Griflath's hotel: in clothes borrowed from Cu/himself 
impatiently waiting behind the scenes for the appTau e 



194 fCrXG Ct)RK AND JIM CKOW, 

to cease, etc., etc, to a most ludicrous tern\inati«>n, the- 
details of which have been set forth fully by noy erudite- 
and accomplished friend, Robert P^ Nevjn, Esq,, in aii 
article in The AiUvntic* v^ith never a word, however^ 
about the barkeeper of McAnijlty'3 hotel in Blairsville, 
Mr. James CrcAV, the observed of all observers on the- 
"Lady Clark " at the opening of the old state canal — 
the " Old State Robber,'' as those inimical to internal im- 
provements of a nautical natnre had only t©«>good rea- 
son tostign^iatize it before its waters went into steam in. 
(he boilers of a more advanceti — eorrttption,. 

Of this origin of Negro Minstrelsy in James Crow, a& 
jjciven above ibr the first tiTne in print, the writer has the 
lull and explicit statements of three credible gentlemen- 
who were of the party on the memorable voyage, two of 
Tvhom were acquainted with Croiv and his fami}y for 
?nany years, before a»d after the occurrence desci'ibed. 



Lf>ng live King Cork, upon the throne »>f mirth I 

His crown a wig of wool in tangled tnfts ; 

His sceptre — hark ' the banjo and the bones I 

His royat word a jocular conundrum ; 

His gait a shuffle and a walk-around ^ 

His sport a chicken-roost and poke at midnight ; 

His feast as corn -cake dipped m 'possuna fat \ 

His every act an antic of such hunaor, 

That man must hold his aching sides perforce. 

Until, within the ringing of his laughter. 

The echo of the chains of slavery, 

The falling of the lash, the shriek of pain, 

And the long sigh of severed souls akin, 

Upon the earth, may be forever stilled ! 

Aye, aye, long live King Cork, and be his sire 
Kemembered in the record of his realm. 
The man of mirth to ear and eye, Jim Crow ! 
The humorist, on board the "Lady Clark," 
( That memorable day, this vessel bore 
Into the western wilds, in pomp and state. 
The Old State Robber like an eastern king ! ) 
Who sang and danced and danced and sang until, 
A King of Comedy, begat his skill ! 



■KINVi OOUK AM) JIM CHOW. i9a 



* The following is Mr. Xevln's account of the ludi- 
•crous scene — 

Entering upon tKity at the ■"Old Drury"'' of the 
•" Birming'tiaTn of America," Rice proceeded to take up 
his opportunity.. There\vas'a negro in attendance ou 
iTrifRtli's Hotel, in W«xl street, named Cuff, an exqui- 
-site specimen of his sort, who won a precarious subsist- 
ence by letting hts mouth open as a mark for the boys to 
pitch pen-nies into, at three paces, and by carrying 
!trunks of passengers frcmi steamboats to the hotels. 
Cutf was precisely the subject for Rice's purpose; slight 
pursuasion induced him to accompany the actor to the 
theatre, where he was led 1o tire private entrance and 
quietly ensconce<\ behind the scenes. After the play, 
Rice, having shaded his own countenance to the contra- 
band hvve, ordered Cuff to disrobe, and proceeded to in- 
vest himself in the cast-off apparel. When the arrange- 
ments were complete, th« bell ra-ng, and Rice, habited 
in an old coat, forlornly delapidated, and a pair of old 
shoes, composed equally of patclies and places for 
patches, on fcis feet, and wearing a coarse straw hat in a 
melancholy condition of rent and collapse, over a dense 
fblack wigof moss, ^\~addled into view. 

The exti*aordinary apparition produced a\i instanta- 
neous effect. The crash of peanuts ceased in the pit, 
and through tiie circles passed a nrurmur ^nd a bustle 
<5f the liveliest expectation. Tiie orchestra opened with 
a short prelude, and to its accompaniment Rice began 
to sing, delivering fiie first tine by way of intro- 
ductory recitative: 
•' Oh, Jim Crow's -come to town as you all must know. 
And he turn abottt, an' wheel about, an do jis so. 
And ebery time he wheel about, he jump Jim Crovv.'" 
The effect was electric. Such a thunder of applause 
as followed was never heard before within the shell of 
that old theatre. With each succeeding coupiet and re- 
fi'ain the uproar v;as renewed, until presently, when the 
performer, gathering courage from the favorable temper 
of his audience, ventaired to improvise matter for his 
distichs from the familiarly-known local incidents, the 
demonstration was deafening. 

Now it happened that Cuff, who meanwhile was 
crouching in deshabille under concealment of a project- 
ing flat behind the performer, by some means received 
Intelligence, at this point, of the near approach of a 
steamer to the Monongahela Wharf. Between himself 
and others of his color in the same business and espec- 
ially as regarded a certain formidable opponent called 
Ginger, there existed an active rivalry in the baggage 



196 KING CORK AND JIM CROW. 



carrying business. For Cuff to allow Ginger the ad van - 
tage of undisputed descent upon the luggage of the ap- 
pi'oaching vessel, would be not only to forfeit all " con- 
siderations " from the passengers, but, bj' proving him 
a laggard in his calling, to cast a damaging blemish up- 
on his reputation. Liberally as he might lend himself 
to a friend, it could not be done at the sacrifice. After a 
minute or two of fidgety waiting for the song to end. 
Cuff's patience could endure no longer, and cautiously 
hazarding a glimpse of his profile beyond the edge of the 
flat, he called in a hurried whisper: 

" Massa Rice, must have my clo'es! Massa Griffif 
%vant me — steamboat's comin' ! '' 

The appeal was fruitless, for a happy hit at an un- 
popular city functionary had set the audience in a roar 
in which all other sounds were lost. Waiting some mo- 
ments longer, the restless Cuff, thrusting his visage from 
under his cover into full three-quarter view this time, 
again charged upon the singer with the same words, but 
with a much more emphatic voice: 

*' Massa Rice, must have my clo'es ! Massa Grifldf 
want me — steamboat's comin' ! " 

A still more successful couplet brought a still more 
tempestuous response, and the invocation of the bag- 
gage-carrier was unheeded and unheard. Driven to des- 
Ijeration, and forgetful in the emergency of every sense 
of propriety, Cuff, in ludicrous undress as he was 
started from his place, rushed upon the stage, and lay- 
ing his hands upon the performer's shoulder, called 
out excitedly : 

•'Massa Rice — Massa Rice! gi' me nigga's coat, nig- 
ga's shoes — gi' me nigga's tings, Massa Griffif want me 
— steamboat's comin' ! " 

The incident was the touch that passed endurance. 
Pit and circles were one scene of such convulsive merri- 
ment that it was impossible to proceed with the per- 
formance, and the fall of the curtain indicated that the 
performance was ended. 

Such were the circumstances, authentic in every par- 
ticular, under which the distinct art of negro minstrel- 
sy was presented. 



To feed the ancient fire of Love, 

Required of vestal maids a corps ; 
So may the flame as sacred prove 

Though fanned in me by half a score. 



THE i^PECTRE OF THE BUTTONWOOD. 197 



— 1885 — 

THE SPECTRE OF THE BUTTON- 
WOOD. 



In a preceding ix>em, '"Ttie Book of Mormoci,"' 
these lilies occur — 

Man reads KotTE-hafs wUhotit, but what's within^ 
Not what's before, "but what's behind his ej^eball. 
Writ in tlie red ink of his blood and "being; 
and iu the poem, ""Queen Aliquippa" — 

For from the heart, the growth -floods g(* 
Back to the brain and ear, till lo ! 
The brain fhinks and the earand eye 
Perceive traisglit but in phantasy; 
and in the poeiim, "frinoe Gallitzin "— 

"'TIS wot the eye that sees bwt the idea. 
Or, to express the same idea with the license of a poet., 
I might say with grea tier force, the ej^e is in tlie heart, 
not in the head- to illustrate which, the following poem 
will serve; -also, wheu contrasted with the story of the 
simple Ridger and his child, told in "The Headless 
Heart," to show the severance of sympathy the instant 
feeling is evolved into thought; the diffvorentiatioa of 
•development ■separating a father and son, svith imagina- 
tions as nearly ideeidti-cai as possible, b^t with different 
histories, so fer that the same object in the same light 
assumes shapes as opposite to them as their fates in 
•crossing th« CoHema\Egh, the feeble o!d man wading in 
safety, while the stwrdyyonsth is drowned: as happened 
in fact, in 1835, at the place indicated, or not, no matter 
to philosophy and poetry, and no moi'e, I take It, to the 
I-egendary history of Southwestern Pennsylvaoia, 



^'On, OQ, my son J While yet the mooo looks 

back — 
Stays m her Sight, aod^ through the parting rack, 
Beholds with staring eye the storm-king's wrath 
Cut, like a scythe in grass, a forest swath ; 
Ere she pursue, behind the rack her flight, 
We must across the Cooeaiaugh* to-night. 

^' On, on, my son ! before the storm's brood, nursed 
UpoD the mountain's rocky breast, have burst 



198 THE SPECTRE OP THE BUTTONWOOD. 

Their swaddling bands ; and, with the bounding 

blood 
Of headstrong youth, have leaped to join the flood 
Of manhood might in the Paeksaddlef trough — 
The wild, resistless, raging Coneraaugh ! 

''You stand aghast, my son ! Your flushed cheeks 

blanch — 
A poplar J in your face upturns a leafy branch: 
Your hand's a toadstool to the touch, cold, dank ; 
Your eye is ice, as lustreless and blank ; 
And fixed on what? Some dread form shaped. 

I wist, 
By fancy in the moonlight and the mist. 

"Yon buttonwood, II below the ford, in sight, 
With bole and limb gaunt, eldritch, weird, and 

white, — 
Dost see in it, my son, a spectral form ? 
The image of the phrensied, threatening storm ? 
Or grizzled ghost, with bony outstetched arm. 
Foreboding, with prophetic gesture, harm ? 
Or forest apparition of King Lear ? — 
His curse upon his daughters, dost thou hear 
Within the wind, that, while he raves and grieves. 
Trembles and rustles in his crown of leaves ? 
Or is it Kiihleborn, grim, heartless, mean, 
Pursuing yet the soul-accursed Undine — 
His angry threat, deep in his rage-choked throat. 
Within the gurgle at the great tree's root ; 
Behind yon bridal veil of mist, her shriek 
Within the swaying, rubbing branches' creak ? 
My son, 'tis but the fancy's sound and sight 
Thou canst not fear thy father's soul's delight ! " 

'" Stay, father, stay. — The outward form may pass 
From sire to sou as in a living glass — 
Head, hand, and foot — the brain, the blood of 

fire; 
But never back again from son to sire ! 
I am thy likeness, father, part for part ; 



THE SPECTRE OF THE BUTTONWOOD. 199 



^ 



I have thine eye ; but thou hast not my heart ! 
Hadst thou my history within thy breast, 
Chilled to the core, as I, thoudst stand aghast ; 
Hadst but one pao;e emblazoned with my blood, 
Thoudst wait and welcome the erasing flood ! 
One scene thoudst see, with staring eye or shut, 
The rav'nous sense of sight for aye would glut ; 
One sound thoudst hear, with eager ear or dull, 
That even dead, would echo in thy skull : 
Thoudst see the misty moonlight's glazed gloom 
The shaded lamplight in the curtained room ; 
The gaunt white bole and branches of yon tree 
A woman dying in her love for me — 
Her wasted arms upheld my neck to clasp 
And stiffen in a wild despairing grasp ! 
Thoudst hear the hurrying wind her broken breath 
Half speak farewell and leave the rest to Death — 
The gurgle of the river at the root. 
The vain attempt of Death within her throat ! 
Nay, stay ! — The light of life has left her eye I 
Stay ! — Close it as the clouds close in the sky ! 
Stay! — Wind around the corpse the endless 

shroud 
As wraps about yon tree the misty cloud ! 
Stay ! — Spread the black cloth with due pomp 

and form ; 
And ring the bell to call the hungry worm ! 
Stay, father, stay ; I grope within the grave ; 
Oh, is't so dark thou canst not see to save ! " 

But in the ford the father's ear is stone — 
He hears nor cry for help nor drowning moan ; 
But in the ford the father's legs are weak. 
And aid of staff and drooping branches seek 
To save him from the rising, swelling tide, 
And place him safely on the other side. 
Now, on the bank, he turns to see his son. 
With sturdy leg and long, think it but fun 
To stalk across the widening, watery way, 
And with the passing driftwoodj)lay. 
But, in the hazy moon's dissolving beam, 



200 THE SFECTKE OF THE BUTTON WOOTt. 

He sees his son sink in the swellin^r stream — 
His arms appearing once above the flood 
To meet the Speetre of the Button wood ; 
While bubbles, in the eirclinp:, seething foam, 
His last word's utter, '• Love I I eome I I come !" 

This is the battonwood. — What^ stranger, start !: 
What sudden pang has seized thy hidden heart ? 
Dost see the old man in the blasted tree — 
With supplicating arm and bended knee — 
The moonbeam glistening in his upturned eye — 
His SOD in shroud of foam quick driftiDjr; by ? 
Art thou or sire or son ? or both in one ? 
Hast thou another's heart vrithin thine own ? 
Canst in the sentient mirror of thy soul 
Both see and feel another's joy or dole ? 
Thou canst I Then see with me^ both son and sire, 
The world engulfed in camcumarabient fire ; ir 
Burnt to an ash in all its vital parts — 
Charred to the centre of its heart of hearts I 



* "Qi7in-nim-ir)ough-koong, or Can-na-maiigh, or 
Otter Creek, as the name signifies."— MeCuUough. 

t From a fancied resemblance to the packsaddle of 
the pioneers, the gap or gorge throngh which the Cone- 
maugh traverses the Chestnut Ridge is called the Pack- 
saddle, Throngh this famous gap in the olden time the 
Pennsylvania Canal passed, to be followed by its great 
successor, the Pennsylvania Railroad of to-day. 

JTheabele, or silver-leaf poplar, Popif??f* alba, the 
leaves of which are dark green above and very white- 
downy beneath. "Nothing can be more striking than 
the contrast between the upper and lower surface of the 
leaves." — Wood. 

II '-The American plane, sycamore, or button wood, 
[Platanus occidentaUs,'\ is found on the streams at the 
base and on the'table-lands of the A.lleghanies, but not 
on its summits. Its snow-white stems, mingled with 
the sombre hemlock, forms one of the finest and most 
striking contrasts in nature."— Jackson. The whiteness 
of the trunk and branches is owing to the annual separ- 
ation of the bark in large scales, leaving the surface so 
smooth that a squirrel cannot ascend it. 



DR. R. M. S. JACKSON. 201 

— 1838 — 

DR. R. 31. S. JACKSON. 



" In 1838 Dr. Jackson, — a man of singular but erratic 
genius, who became a distinguished physician in West- 
ern Pennsylvania, and died surgeon-in-chief of the 
Army of the Cumberland soon after the battle of Look- 
out mountain near Cliattanooga, in 1863, — made a dis- 
covery of great importance, but one not appreciated for 
II good many years afterward. After examining — with 
eyes from the glance of which nothing escaped, and 
with a brain never excelled — every iron ore bank in 
Nittany Valley, Brush Valley, Penn's Valley, Sinking 
Creek Valley and Kishacoquillas Valley, he came to the 
conclusion that the brown-hematite ( limonite ) ore of 
these valleys belonged to the stratified limestone beds 
themselves, and had been set free from them by chem- 
ical and mechanical decomposition. This view was not 
only new and strange to the iron masters and 
miners of the region, but was opposed to the 
prevailing feeling of the chief geologist, and not 
publicly accepted by him."— LESiiBY. 



What broad-browed man is this, that, standing in 
The vale erect, o'ertops the mountain's height ? 
What chaos this that girts him like a cloud? 
What cosmos this, evolving from his hand ? 
What logos this that launches from his lips 
In tones that still the tempest's roar and thunder ? 
Stand by his side, Man, if thou wouldst know 
Of time but in the heart-beat of an eon ! 
Of space but as the scope of thy existence ! 
For, in the brain, behind yon broad-browed blazon, 
The Soul of Science seethes in silence in 
An endless ebullition of creation ! 



— 1838 — 

MOLL DELL. 



So great was the belief of the people of Somerset 
county in the supernatural powers of this old woman, 
that, in the generalizing language of my informer, she 



2()2 MOLL. DELL. 



Trept a wIioIp township digging for a gold mine for a life- 
rime — till the excavations made looked like an jncom- 
j)!eted railroad stn7ck by ligblning! 



A witch ! And lo I the simu'lacrum of 

The Soul of Science"^ raelts into a mist 

That sinks tipon the soil of Somerset : 

The circle of the sorcerer surrounds 

The Little World of Appalaehia ; 

The sun'^s obscured; the moon awry and moBStrous> 

The earth is the abode of newts and bats, 

The baneful hemlock,"}' jimson weed, J; and rhus ;|f 

A Brief von {>ott§ hangs on the cabin's wall 

To save from fire and thieves and pestilence ; 

The mirror of the screened erdspiegel^ tells 

Of the unknown within the earth and air; 

The forked crutch of hazel and of peach** 

Sinks wells for oil and water by the thousand ; 

The sacred symbol of the yoni hangs 

Above the doorway, in the horseshoe^s form, 

To save the inmates of the hall and hovel 

From every evil influence and harm 

That rafght attend an angry witch's charm — 

The human heart, within the name Moll Dell^ 

Is rotten in the grave of sin — in hell I 



'^ Dr. R. M. S. Jackson. 

t Conium maculatum — the poison which. Socrates is 
said to have drank. 

X The Jamestown weed, corrupted to Jimsonweed, or 
thorn-apple, Datura stramoniuin is one of the poisonous 
•plants introduced with civilization into Southwestern 
Pennsylvania. *• If you eat the burr of a jimsonweed," 
the boys say, "you will see all the Indians that ever 
lived in the country." 

II The oak-ivy, Rhus toxicodendron v. rarfic«ns, a plant 
emitting a poisonous effluvium. 

§ During the great fire in Meyersdale, in 1875, a "Let- 
ter from God" was pl-aced in a building in advance of 
the flames — and, curiously, as I am informed by acred- 
ible gentleman, the fire was checked at that particular 
house! During the past year, I observed one of these 
curious old German charms against fire and pestilence, 
witchcraft, disease, and evil in general, above a large 



THE WITCH or ■^VESTMORELAND. 203 



'iron safe in one of the i)est houses in Westmoreland 
•county. It was over a hundred years old, in ^ood pres- 
•ervatlon, a«d beyond price. 

% The erdspiegel, or witch's leokiiig-.glass, is still in. 
«se among tlie suj)erstitious in .Southwestern Penn.syl- 
vania. Iti 1875, a little boy named Ankeny was lost oit 
the Laurel Hill, east of Ligooier, when a witch of 
Somerset county, who bad in her possession an erdspie- 
:gel, was sent for, that she might see exactly where he 
was and direct aright the hundreds who had gathered 
from far and near to the scene of distress o« the moun- 
tain. Upon her arrival, slie look-ed into her glass con- 
•cealed in the bottom of a black bag; but the presence of 
an unbeliever in the throng so beclouded the mirror 
that the chiM has not been seen to this day. 

** The use of the diviner's rod in searching for 
water, oil, and minerals of value is very common iu 
Western Pennsylvania. It surpasses belief the fortunes 
which have been squandered in the oil regions in the 
absolute trust of the ignorant and greedy in the preten- 
sions of the oil -smellers to locate wells directly over 
seas of oil. 



— 18b'8 — 

THE WITCH OF WESTMORELAND. 



While on t lie subject of witches 



^'A witch? God have mercy! FlI warrant a hag 

So old that the devil himself cannot tell 
When the crooked and wrinkled and twisted 
zigzag 
Of a wry-mouthed old spinster was first leagued 
with — well " — 

'''Lord! no sir! She's only a year old to-day, 
And as round and as red and as sweet as a 
peach ! 
And the wonder is, not when she leagued — as 
you say, 
But that heaven could spare such a witch of a 
witch ! " 



S04 THE WITCH OF WESTMORELAND. 



"Well, what can she do, this quintessence of 
evil — 
This perversion of age in her wicked profession ? 
I presume she can ride on a broom like the devil, 
And crawl thro' the keyhole to secret con- 
fession ?" 



" No ! Csesar Augustus ! she rides in a gig, 

Or is carried about in the gentlest of arms ; 
And crawl thro' a keyhole — why, man, she's 
this big ! 
And the doors open wide in the face of her 
charms ! " 



"Well, seeing's believing — but what of her cat. 
With its yellow eyes, hump-back, and tail up, 
and grin, 

As big as a barn and as black as a hat — 
The witch's select incarnation of sin ! " 



" Her cat? Why, my friend it is yet but a kitten, 
As white as the snow and as soft as old silk ; 

Nor devilish, save an occasional fit, 

Which our doctor is treating with sulphur 
and milk!" 



" Well, what of her figures in wax — I suppose. 

She has or does something of which I have 
read? 
Can she melt ofi* the point of a fair lady's nose, 

And open the eyes and the mouth of the dead ? " 

" Can she melt off the point — I have seen her 
myself 
Melt three or four noses to nothing at all ; 
And I've seen her quite often, the mischievous elf, 
Make a dummy of gum move its eyes — yea,, 
and squall ! " 



A TOAST TO WOMAN. 205 



•'' And of course, then, you've seen this remarkable 
witch 
Mat tbe manes of the horses and tie the cows' 
tails, 
Sour the milk m the churn, and give me the itch 
Till he scratch like the devil and pray for his 
nails?" ^ 



"' Well, no ; not exactly ; but this I will swear, 
I've seen her tie knots and I never could loose 
'em — 
Yes, tbe tightest of knots in my beard and my 
hair ; 
And as for sour milk, just behold aiy shirt- 
bosom ! - ' 



^'Ah, yes; now I tak« — yes, you mean — yes, 
I see ; 
Well, no matter — expect me to see her at 
dinner. 
With my bell, book, and candle to save at least 
me 
From the spell of the witch and the hell of the 
sinner." 



" Yes, come, and your whole end of town bring 
along, 
And I'll show yoia this witch in the arms of 
my wife — 
The proudest of mothers a million among, 

And the happiest father you've seen in vour 
life!" ^ 



I drink to the woman aglow with the fire, 
That burns on the altar eternal of Love ; 

A spark from whose eye inflames man to aspire 
To wield for her glory the lightning of Jove ! 



206 THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SCE. 

. — I,S40-2 — 

THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. 



A memento of the Washington ian temperance revi 
val in Southwestern Pennsylvania, in 184U-2, 



What a night may do, 

My child, for you, 

Nobody knows ; 

But list to the story of poor little Sue. 

And when you pray 

To heaven, say — 

"Grod grant that I may share my joys 

With other children — girls and boys — 

Who have perhaps her woes ! " 



*'It is the killdeer's* cry ! 

x\nd that another ! — 

I know it, mother ; 

For all the evening, Benny and I 

Were chasing 

Them 'round the pond — 

Anp Sanquo racing ! — 

You couldn't tell 

He had but three legs till he tripped and ft^U, 

Over Benny's sled, 

And into the water went heels over head, 

Where ^" couldn't '^'"^ straight, ^"' *"™^ '^^"'•'' 'round 

Before he found 

The bottom and reached dry ground ! 

Oh, it was such fun 

To scare the kildeers — to see them run, 

And to see them fly, 

And scream whenever they'd pass us by ! 

I laughed and shouted, and Benny stoned 

Till he couldn't see to throw at all — 

It was so dark. 

And he so tired, 

That, in the mud when he was mired, 

He was so scared he had to bawl ! — 



THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. 207 



And Sanquo began to whine and bark ! — 

Dear me ! little Benny's asleep on his chair ! — 

How father will laugh to see him there ! — 

"But, mother, why don't he come? 

I am so hungry ! and poor little Ben — 

I could scarcely keep him stoning ! — but then, 

I knew there was nothing to eat at home 

Till father would come from the store ! — 

Why is it, mother, we are so poor? — 

And father — was never so late before ? " 

'• Hush ! hush ! — 

My child, it was a startled bird 

I heard ; 

But hush ! — 

Without his bowl of mush, 

I will put little Benny to bed. 

Kiss him good night — don't bump his head 1 

( Dear boy, he is wasted with sickness and hunger ; 

Beyond this cold night, can he live any longer ! ) 

Now, Sue, 

Do you 

Say your prayers for both — ask God to grant 

What you want : 

Your father to come 

And make heaven your home ! 

Good night, "^^ "^^"^ — a kiss — there — another — 

And one for your father and one for your brother. 

Now sleep — oh, sleep in ignorant bliss 

Of the trouble that trebbles my trembling kiss 1 " 

It was a startled killdeer's cry. 

But the hot tears welled in the mother's eye, 

As she took a shawl, 

Ragged and torn, from a hole in the wall, 

And tucked it about her children two, 

Father-like Benny and mother-like Sue. — 

With listless love she tucked it about, 

With her head from her hands afar, 

But not her heart, — 

As if she heard the distant shout 



208 THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. 



Of the maddened revel and crazed rout, 

And in the midst of the tumult and jar, — 

But of the tumuJt a thing apart 

To her as a distant star, — 

A shriek recurring I and then the laughter 

Of twenty demons coming after I 

While the poisoned cups were passed and quaffedy 

And one still shrieked and the others laughed ; 

While ^^^ cold wind ^'*'' through "^^ hole in the wall 

On the shiverino; woman without fire or shawl I 



" It is the hooting of an owl I — 

Look, mother [ 

I see it through the window-pane I 

It sits on the sill — t 

And oh, so still ! — 

Do catch it for brother 

Ben 

If you can ! 

The light of the candle is full in its eyes ; 

And how it twits 

Its little ears no bigger than kit's — 

Oh, don't it look like a cat in disguise ! — 

Ah, there it flies I — 

Old Sanquo has scared it away with his howl ! — 

How sad little Benny to-morrow will be 

That I did not awake him the owl to see ! 

But father will tell him a story, I know, 

Of a witch or a fairy who long ago, 

In the shape of a cat with chicken wings, 

Did many strange and wondrous things — 

A story worth forty owls like that, 

That only could look liko a frightened cat ! — 

Little Benny — how cold he grows ! 

And breathes ^ strangely ^""^ picks ^* the clothes ! — 

Father, dear father — I wish he would come ! — 

I wonder, dear mother, if father knows 

How we love him and miss him at home ? 

Or why every evening away he goes — " 



THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. 209 

"Hush! hush! 

It was an owl — but do not push 

Little Benny against the wall ; 

Pull up the shawl 

Over his arm — 

Lie close to him, darling, and keep him warm. — 

(But what a strange smell J to his breath — 

Or is it his clothes — the musk 

From the rat|| Sanquo killed at the pond at dusk ? 

God ! let it bode not of death !) 

There, turn ^""^ eyes. Sue, from the flickering light; 

And again, for your father and brother, 

Kiss your mother 

Good night — 

While the village bell 

Strikes the midnight hour with a sullen blow, 

Measured and slow, 

As if ringing a knell ! " 

It was the owl — perhaps the mother — 

Or one and th' other 

That waked the child. 

But there was an echo in the sound, 

So wild, 

So weird and eldritch and inhuman. 

Could not be found 

In screech of owl and wail of woman ! — 

An echo, of a distant brawl, 

Winding through the hole in the wall — 

Of a cask upturned, the surer and quicker 

To drain the last drop of its poisoned liquor — 

Of the curse of the maddened drunken throng, 

As, over the cup half-filled at the bung, 

They quarrel and fight ; 

While the gaping wound 

And the blood that reddens the beaten ground 

Are hid in the blackness of night ! 



"Is it to-morrow, dear mother, already? 

The cock is crowing — yes, yes, that's Neddy ! 

I know his crow, so loud and long, 



210' THE STORY OF POOR LrTTLE SUK 

As if he were going to sing a song I — 

Old Neddjj that father has promised to buy, 

When he is rich, that Fenny and I, 

When Christmas comes, can each have a feather 

From his long tail^ to play soldier together T — 

But it cannot be morning and father not here ; 

And you up all the night? Come, mother, dear^. 

Come, come to bed — 

For Benny is chill, 

And he lies so still, 

I'm afraid to touch him. for fear he ia dead ! — 

But hark I 

It is father, dear naother^ I hear at the gate ! 

But why does Sanquo, though father come late^. 

So wildly bark ? 

And why does father so strangely curse 

The poor old dog — nay, worse and worse^ 

Old Sanquo kill ! — 

For after that yelp he is so still !" 

^' Hush ! hush ! my child ; 'tis a strang^r'^s walk — 
Another's — another's — and list 1 they talk ! — 
What is't they say ? '0 God ! who shall speak 
The wards that a widow and orphans make !' — 
Hush ! hush ! my child ; little Benny has gone i 
You will soon be left in the world alone I 
Your father's without on a drunkard's bier ! 
And your starved mother is dying here 1 
Good night — a kiss, my child, for your brother. 
And one for your father and one for your mother 1 '* 



The killdeer when startled at eve will cry 

With a plaintive voice and shrill ; 

The owl to the night-watcher's window will fly 

And hoot as it sits on the sill ; 

The cock will crow at the dawn ; 

True — 

But maiden, or mother, or grandmother Sue, 

Wrinkled and wan, 

Will never hear 



THE STORY OF POOR LITTLE SUE. 211 

With childhood's ear 

'Their notes alooe : 

'The killdeer will shriek, in wild affright, 

"With the voice of her mother that terrible night.; 

The owl will echo the mournful knocks 

•Of the frosen clods on the wooden box 

That hid little Benny, her brother. 

Her father atid mother, — 

And San<^uo — forever from sight ! 

While the cock will crow in the morn 

With the sound of the awful horn 

That will herald the Judojment Day.. 

When, 

Pather and mother., 

Sister and brother 

"Will come together — 

Their sins forgiven, 

To dwell in heaven 

Alway ! — 

Yes, Sanquo will be in heaven, too, 

On four legs, my child, with Benny and Sue -— 

Amen I 



* "From its peculiar uote, tlie Killdeer \_ JEgialitis. 
t)oci/erus, ] is one of the few birds of our country known 
to all classes and ages of the people." — S. F. Baird. 

t This is assnmed to be the mottled or screech owl, 
Scops asio, the most abundant of The owls inliabiting the 
United States, and one in which the ear-tufts are con- 
spicuous. The incident of tiie owl alighting on the sill 
and looking like a cat at the light through the window- 
pane, I received from the distinguished ornithologist, 
the lamented friend of my boyhood, John Cassin, of 
Philadelphia. 

X The musky odor of dissolution is so strong some- 
times that it may be detected by the human nostril an 
hour or more before death, and several hours before and 
at a great distance by the infinitely keener nostril of the 
dog. From this has arisen the saying that the howling 
of a dog at the door of the sick indicates the approach 
of death. 

11 The musk-rat, Fiber zibethicus, very common in 
Southwestern Pennsylvania. 



212 THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 
— 1844 — 

THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 



In the year 1844, Dr. Alfred T. King, of Greensburg, 
drew the attention of the scientific world to Southwest- 
ern Pennsylvania, by the publication of his discoveries 
several years before in this region, to wit, cer(ain foot- 
prints, across mud- or sun-cracks, and the pitting of a 
shower of rain, in several slabs of rock found between 
two seams of coal in the neighborhood of Pleasant 
Unity, Westmoreland county, furnishing indisputable 
evidence of the existence of air-breathing vertebrates 
upon the planet during the carboniferous age, and con- 
traverting, accordingly, the prevailing geologic theory 
of the time to the contrary, namely, that no air-breath- 
ing animal could have lived in the atmosphere, sur- 
charged with carbonic acid gas and fatal to animal life, 
which was necessary to furnish the requisite pabulum of 
the extraordinary plant-growths of that period. Subse- 
quent discoveries have verified the deductions of Dr. 
King with respect to the foot-prints of the batracho- 
saurian of his publication — Thenaropvs heteroclactylus. 
The slabs containing these foot-prints, are pictured in 
several of the standard works on geology. One was car- 
ried to England in 1846. by Sir Charles Lyell, who visit- 
ed Gi'eensburg to satisfy himself of the authenticity of 
the tracks and the measures in wliich the stones were 
found; a second is in the Academy of Science in Phila- 
delphia (?); while the third is in the hands of the wri- 
ter: a very unpoetical-looking stone as it stands in a 
corner of his study, but the factor in his environment, 
nevertheless, that has fathered the following to amother 
of morbid feeling but faintly portrayed in the poem. 
f 

It was the merry month of May, 

A morning warm and bright : 
The dewy gem on the budding stem 

Shone with the diamond's light. 

The cat-bird,* in the alder-bush, 

A mime of music made 
Of the ripple and dash and the trickle and splash 

Of the rock-rill's wild cascade. 



THE JESTER OT OLD ICING COAL. 2 Id 

"The bee, in the scent of the summer's sweet, 
Hummed hopeful from bud to bud, 

And the painted troutf dtirted in and OKt, 
In sport in the sparkling flood. 

'The winter, the -night, and the cload were gone. 

The world was -warm and bright ; 
iE'en the Sorrow '^ earth seemed changed *''*'' Mirth. 

And Death into dancing Delight. 

Aye, the Dead "^'^^ the Quick seemed "^ clasp in Joy-, 

An<i around in a waits to go ; 
All — all, -save one, who sate alone 

Ifi wretchedness and woe, 

A man in the mora of the May^day of life. 

But worn wtth grief and care : 
An J the winter's sky beclouded his e^^e, 

And the hoar-frost whitened his hair. 

When the world was glad, he alon« was sad. 

In a winter's night of gloom, 
As he sate on a sod, in the acre of G-od, 

And moaned and wept o'er a tomb — 

Where years ago, — bat as y-esterday, 
To the woe that notes not time, — 

He had buried the wife of his Spring of life. 
And the son of Ms -Summer's prime. 

And with them, his heart, his hope, and his aim, 

His future with the past : 
For as the iSpring sows, the Summer grows, 

And the Autuma gathers at last. 

When hark ! the sound of a merry voice, 

Sympathetic, steady, and strong, 
The sob suppressed in the weeping man's breast, 

And attuned his soul to song. 

*'It was Old King Coal, was a jolly old soul, 

And a jolly old soul was he ; 
He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, 

And his fiddlers, one, two, three. 



214 THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 

"And when he had smoked and quaffed his fill. 

And heard his fiddlers three, 
He shook in his hall and began to bawl 

For his jolly old jester in me ! 

" For this jolly old jest of the King on his throne : 
His sceptre of power, this bauble ; 

His golden crown, this cap of a clown. 
And his wisdom, this gibble-gabble ! || 

" But Hey ! daddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle. 

The world and his wife are apes, 
Looking, each in the glass of the other's face, 

And turning to opposite shapes ! 

"The King on his throne shall prove a clown, 

And the wisest man a fool, 
And the fool a sage when he overtakes age 

To kick, like a football, his skull !" 

When lo ! a little, old miner appeared — 
On his shoulder, a pointed pick — 

Begrimed with soot from head to foot — 
On his cap a burning wick. 

A little, old man in the Winter of life, 
But as bright as the bursting bud : 

An the Spring's morning sky beamed in his eye, 
And the Summer's sun warmed his blood. 

"What, ho ! my lad, thy soul is sad," 

The little, old miner said, 
With a look of surprise in his sparkling eyes, 

And a toss of his dust-dyed head. 

"Because, forsooth, thou hast buried thy youth, 
Must thou bury thy manhood's might, 

And the merry old age of the satisfied sage. 
Who sees in the darkness the light. 

" Come along with me, and thou shalt see, 

That Man gathers as he gives ; 
Yea, my lad, that Man with the world began,§ 

And that as he dies, he lives. 



THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 215 



" As the one revolves, the other evolves, 

Like a part within a whole — 
His body a part of the world's throbbing heart. 

His life of the world's sentient soul. 

" Come along with me, and thou shalt see, 

That the world as it rolls about. 
In the multiple forms of its wheedling worms, 

Is but turning itself in and out — 

" Till Winter and Summer and Autumn and Sring, 

Since first the world began. 
Like a model of weather are mingled together, 

And involved in a second self, Man ! 

'•Till, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle. 

Who best in the world can sing, 
But the satisfied sage in the Winter of age, 

Who sees himself dancing in Spring ! 

" Come along with me, and thou shalt see, 

As he only can see the light 
Of the sun afar in the twinkling star, 

Who looks in the darkness of night. 

"Aye, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle, 

He best of heaven can tell. 
Who lies on his back and looks up thro' a crack, 

From the depth of the damn'dest in hell ! 

"Come along with me and thou shalt see, 
In the grave of thy son and wife, 

That as thou hast laid thyself with the dead. 
Thou hast risen into life ! " 

Astounded, aghast, from the grave of the Past, 
The weeping man rose, weak and white — 

Like the tender sprout when it first peeps out 
Of the dark world into the light. 

And with faltering steps, he followed behind 

The Jester of Old King Coal, 
With the pointed pick and the burning wick, 

Till they came to a deep, black hole. 



2T6' THE JESTER OF" OLD KIXG COAL. 

A deep black hole in the crust "hxthe earth, Ou. 

Where the wheel weot rouod and roundL 
And the iron cagie — - like jouth and age — 

Went up aad down in the grou'nd. 

Where all was worry and hurry and flurry, 

Among a busy throng 
Of earth-born elves, seeing only themselves,. 

As they saiag the Miner's Song. 



Dig ! dig ! dig f dig I 

In the dead of night aad alone, 
With a pointed pick and a waning wick, 

In a world that has turned to- stone f 

Dig ! dig ! dig ! djg ? 

As thou hast beguc at birth ^ 
A shadowy form in the semblance of worm-,. 

Recreating a sub and an earth I 

Dig ! dig ! dig ! dig ! 

Till the wick expires with a breath, 
And the pick turns to rust with a skull-full of dust. 

In the grave Life has dug for Death I 



Where all was worry and hurry and flurry^ 

The jester and mourner came. 
And while the elves saw only themselves, 

They stepped in the iron frame. 

'' Ha ! here we go down ! down I down l'^ 

The old man said and laughed, 
'^'.Thro' many a fold of our mother mould 

That is pierced by this vertical shaft. 

" Ha ! and here we go back I back ! back ! 

In our descending cage, 
From the last quiv'ring ray of the living to-day 

To the dead carboniferous age. 



THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 217 

'• Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! we go down and back, 
From the present struggle and strife, 

Like ^"^^ worms, '" °"'' cage, piercing page after page 
Of the musty old Ledger of Life l^ 

"Until, lo ! with a thump we have "'""^ ^*^^ sump, 
In the depth of our worm-eaten hole, 

Two shadowy forms in the semblance of worms, 
In the court of Old King Coal ! " 

Singing, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the '^' ^"^^ the fiddle, 

The jester danced and laughed ; 
While, staring aghast in the gloom of the past, 

The mourner shook in the shaft. 

" Nay, shake not, my lad," the old man said, 

" At these files of upright posts, 
That stand in the gloom of this regal room, 

Like a guard of grizzled ghosts. 

"For they are with us of the earth of to-day, 

The living among the dead ; 
In the fungus that grows on these sentry rows, 

See the hairs of the hoary head.'^'^ 

" See the hairs of the hoary head that appear 
When the lamp of thought is lit. 

And *^^ quaking '""^ quick see themselves ^"^ a pick 
At work in their own charnel pit. 

"Nay, shake not, my lad, in afi'right and dread, 

At the fungus on the post, 
Tho' in it thou stare at the first grey hair 

That reveals in thee living, thy ghost ! 

" Have courage, my lad ! Yea, be merry and laugh, 

Till, in thy gasping breath. 
Thou seest a host of friends in these ghosts, 

And a jolly good fellow in Death ! 

"Yea, till Death appear in this terrene tomb. 

With the wagging beard in glee 
Of Old King Coal, with his pipe and bowl. 

His fiddlers, and jester in me ! 



2^18' THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAE. 

Singinnj, Hey ! daddle diddle, the cat ^'"^ the fiddle- 
While the lamp of thought is lit, 

He lives a fool who kicks not his skull 
As a ball in the field of his wit. 
f. 

" Have courage, ray lad ! Yea, be merry and laugh,, 
For, live in the air or earth, 

With a waning wick and a pointed pick. 

Thou but diggest thy grave from thy birth I 

"Aye, with haloes of heaven surround thy head,. 

And with halidoms hedge thy heart, 
The shadowy form will still change its form. 

While the living and dead never part 1 

"Come, come, my lad ; let us dig together, 

For dig as dig we may. 
With a waning wick and a pointed pick^ 

We but turn over our own clay. 

" Come, come — the worm but changes its form ; 

There is nothing gained or lost ; 
The earth is itself but a changeling elf 

In the arms of a gadding ghost 1 "^ 

The jester said, as he walked before. 
And the mourner followed after — 

Like the shadow of night that follows the light, 
And the silence that follows laughter. 

The jester said as he walked before, 

Light and laughter in a tomb, 
Turning here his wick and there his pick, 

As he went from room to room. 

The jester said, in the court of King Coal, 
With the bauble and cap of mirth, 

Turning night to light and death to breath — 
Recreating a sun and an earth ! 

The jester said and the mourner saw 

Till his brain in bewilderment whirled, 

At the infinite range of forms wondrous '*"'* strange 
That shadowed and shaped the old world ! 



TH'E JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 219 



Ferns, mosses, and crollsff looraing up into trees- 
Reeds spearing themselves into space ; 

And spreading pines with bristling spines 

Hedge-hogging their way thro' the mass ! 

Winged dragons,ii like clouds, ^"'^ jaws and claws, 

O'ershadowing steaming pools, 
Where, afloat like logs, lay huge crocodile-frogs, 

And sharks swam about in schools ! 

The mourner saw till «ight became sound 

And the jester began to sing, 
From slow to fast, and from low to a blast 

That made the cavern rincr. 

o 

^' Singing, Hey ! daddle-diddle, '""^ cat ^'^'^ the fiddle, 

The worm walked in the sun, 
And, as it passed a shadow it <3ast 

To be turned at its heels into stone, 

^' And as it has been, it is, and will be ; 

The worm goes on and on, 
From change to change in an infinite range, 

Rolling after itself in stone — 

*' Rolling after itself in a woii^ of stone — 

The heart with all it fee^, 
And the head with the wit that evolves from it, 

All hard on the hurrying heels ! 

^'Singing, Hey ! daddle-diddle, '""^ cat '""' the fiddle, 
The crotchets of king and clown, 

With their shadows that fall on the palace wall. 
Shall come behind them in stone ! 

'' Till the rocks '''^'' be rippled with smile "^^"^ smile. 

And the Future stare aghast 
At the wonderful forms of the merry old worms 

That sang and danced in the Fast — 

"Of Old King Coal, with his pipe and bowl, 

And his fiddlers, one, two, three, 
When, to laugh over all, he began to bawl 

For his jolly old jester in me ! 



220 THE JESTER OF OLl) KING COAL. 

" Why, mark thou, °*^ lad, " '^''^ the merry old man, 

Re-trimmiDg his waning wick, 
When, turning around in the hole in the ground, 

He plied his pointed pick. 

He plied his pointed pick, until 

A great rock parted in twain, 
AVhen, behold ! a track and a trampled sun-crack. 

And above all the spatter of rain ! 

"Why, mark thou, my lad ; ,the worm that made 

This track in the olden time 
Was a goggled-eyed frog that crept out of a bog 

In a coat of grey-green slime. 

" For the frog would a- wooing go, as frogs will, 

When up came a sudden rain. 
And drove the beau back across the sun-crack. 

And into the bog again ! 

" And the rain continued until the bog 

Rose above the sun-burnt brim, 
And with its flood encased in mud 

Track, crack, and rain for all time. 

"That the Worm, looking back upon the track 
Which it made as a frog in the rain, 

Shall never despair to leave somewhere 
The track which it makes as a Man ! 

" The track which it "^^^^^ as a Man — the worm 
That has crept away from the bog, 

And raised its head, till it stands o'er its dead, 
On the hindfeet alone of a frog — 1||| 

"The breath which he breathes in the open air, 

His laughter and his groan. 
E'en the subt'lest thought '" his phantasy wrought. 

Shall roll at his heels in stone ! 

"Singing, Hey ! daddle-diddle, the "^^^'^^ the fiddle, 

The Jester of Old King Coal, 
With the world that began with himself in Man, 

To the end of both, shall roll 1 " 



ITlE JESTER OF OLD KTXG COAL. 221 

And the jester danced with a lighter st-ep 
'Up and down in the d^sty room, 

'Till the waning wick and the pointed »pick 
Gleamed in the upper gloom — 

'Gleamed in the upper gloom of the mine, 

Where the .fire-damp §§ held its breath, — 

When a lightning' flash ai^d a thunder crash 
Announced King Goal as Death ! 

The old man fell on the 'floor of the mine, 
His wick going; out with his wit, 

-And his pick, in hisskuU, sinking senseless ''"'^'dull 
In the grave it had dug io the pit ! 

While the mourner fell on the old man's coree, 

His head above the flood ^^ 
'Of the after-damp roiling back to the swamp 

Like a stream of envenomed blood. 

And there he lay till the rescuer came, 
Thro' the crevice above the mass 

That fell io the room i'rom the upper gloom, 
Where t?he fiickerino- wick fired the o^as. 

And there he lay till the rescuer came, 

And earned him into the light, 
Among the elves who forgot themselves 

With the presenee of Death in their sight. 

When Io 1 two doctors came riding posthaste, 

With their lancets drawn out of the sheath,^ 

When, horse to hoi-se^ they met in their course. 
And bled one another to death 1 

And lol two lawyers, in wigs and gowns, 

Came in great pomp and state, 
When, each breaking a jaw ™ expounding the law, 

They divided the mourner's estate ! 

Andlo! two preachers came, solemn and grave, 
And upon their marrowbones fell ; 

When, the mourner forgiven, they sent '^"" ^ heaven, 
And each other damned to hell ! 



222 THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 

And two undertakers, with cojffins and crape, 

Came along as silent as sin. 
Till, hearing their knocks on each other's box, 

They called out politely, Come in ! 

Two worms, in short, in different shapes, 

Unable their greed to smother. 
Met under the form of their fellow- worm, 

And began to devour one another ! 

When, breathing again the air of to-day. 
And feeling the warmth of the sun. 

The mourner, aghast at his dream of the past, 
Awoke from the world of stone. 

When all the shadowy shapes of his dream 
Sank into the depth of the hole, 

Where, holding ^'^ breath *" the presence "^ Death. 
Lay the Jester of Old King Coal. 

With arm and leg enfeebled and cramped, 

The mourner rose from the sod. 
And stood on the dead beneath him laid 

In the world-wide acre of God. 

When ^^"^ came the thoughts °' ^'^ dream "^ the past. 

To solace and strengthen his soul — 
Like an echo in sound of a voice in the ground — 

The Jester of Old King Coal. 

The Jester of Old King Coal in himself, 
Deep down in the shaft of the earth. 

That round and round whirled in the Little World 
That began its course with his birth. 

And behold ! in the morn of the merry May-day, 
When the sun shone warm and bright. 

The Sorrow of earth was turned into Mirth, 
And Death into dancing Delight ! 

For the tear, in the eye of the weeping man, 

Gleamed in the light of the sun, 
Like the dewy gem that spangled the stem, 

Ere it passed into mist — and stone. 



THE JESTER OF OLD KING COAL. 223 

And the sob, ia the breast above the grave, 

Assumed the tuneful tone 
Of the cascade note from the cat-bird's throat, 

Ere it sank into silence — and stone. 

While the leg and the arm, enfeebled ^'^'^ cramped, 
With the might of mirth moved on — 

Like the bee and the trout as they darted about, 
Ere they sped out of sight — into stone. 

And the mourner lived, like a Winter's corse 
With a May-day morning's soul, 

Till, holding his breath in the presence of Daath, 
Like the Jester of Old King Coal — 

He sank into stone, with his bauble and cap. 
That the Future might stare aghast 

At the wonderful forms of the merry old worms 
That sang and danced in the Past. 



* Mimus Carolinensis, vel felivoz. " It 
something of the faculty of mimicing other birds, and 
is often heard using notes of their songs mingled with 
itsoriginallay,"— Jac/cso^i. "lam inclined to believe 
that he possesses no original note of his own, but ac- 
quires and modulates the songs of other birds."— Nut- 
tall. Again and again, I have listened to the rolicsome, 
tumble-down song of this remarkable songster, and can 
compare it to nothing more appropriate than the rock- 
riirs wild cascade, rippling and splashing, trickling and 
dashing over and under the unequal rocks in a ravine 
on the mountain's side. 

t "Far up in the mountain rivulets, even to the 
spring as it escapes through the fissures of the rock, this 
species [the brook-trout, Salmo fontinalis,] climbs. 
Wherever fresh water, especially cold spring-water, is 
found in sufficient quantity to immerse their bodies, 
they abound in hole and eddy, in pool and rapid, and it 
is wonderful how they thread their way up the moun- 
tain side through the swift-rushing streams, over falls 
boiling through rocks, roots and drifts * * * * In 
the clear, bright spring-runs of the mountain, the trout 
is generally thought to attain his greatest perfection of 
coloring, sporting his handsome figure and brilliant 
tints to perfection."— Jackson. 

t As if— allowable in poetry. 



i24 TiTE JESTER UF OLD KIXG COAL, 



li The phJ2osophy of this poem may be said to consist 
in expression by opposites; as- stated in the fallowing, 
stonza. 

? Man being the highest development on trie planet^, 
he is the oldest, according to the theory of evolution, as- 
I understand it. The idea is expressed fuDy in a subse- 
quent poem.. "The Last ^^an." 

^ M. Piegnot mentions an instance wliere, in a pub- 
lic library that was frequented but iittle, tv/enty-seven 
folio vc'lumes were perforated in a straight line by one 
and the same larv^i of a small insect ( Alwbiumf pertinax 
vel ^. xS'D-ia^wm,) in such a manner that, on passing a- 
cord throng'rt the perfectly ror*nd hole made by the in- 
spect, tliese twenty-seven volumes could be raised at 
once.— Cowan's Curions Hist, of Inseet^t p. 61. 

** That is, the pit-posts, like the jester and mourner, 
belong to the present age, having been placed in the 
mine as supports. The fungus, referred to, is one of the 
most extraordinary forms of life to- be met with above 
or below the surface of tiie earth. In the light of the 
miner's lamp, it is snowy white, like the softest wool^ 
hanging sometimes in great beards and festoons, or- 
mantling over the timbers of the mine in multiple folds- 
of down. When examined closely, it resembles cobweb* 
and mist intertangled and mixed; and when brought 
out of the damp atmosphere of the mine, intC" the ordin- 
ary air of open day, it dissolves into naught. 

-ft Crolls, lichens, such as Tung-wort and rock-tripe.. 

J+ Not necessarily the pterodactyles of a later age; 
for, I doubt not, there were winged dragons in the car- 
/■)oniferous age as well as in suc*eeeding eons,^ 

lllj The identity, part for part, oi'the five-toed foot of 
Man to-day, with that of the five-toed foot of the batra-- 
ehian of the coal measures is renoarkable. His develop- 
ment has been above the feet. 

g§ Fire-damp, or marsh-gas, as it is called some- 
times, is ^he proto-carburetted or light c>arburetted hy- 
drogen gas of the chem-ist. Like the gas burned in 
liouses, rt requires to be mixed with a proportion of air 
before it is combustible or explosive. Being lighter than 
the air, it is found in the "upper gloom" of the coal- 
pit, as stated in the poem. Tlie white-danop of the 
miner is the carbonic oxide of the chemist. 

^T[ The after-damp, stythe, choke-damp, or black- 
damp, resulting from the combustion of fire-damp, is 
the carbonic acid gas of the chemist. It is heavier than 
the atmosphere, flowing after an explosion in a mine 
like water to the lowest level, the swamp of the mine, 
technically speaking. 



STEPHEN C. FOSTER. 225 



— 1851 — 

STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER. 

Possibly the songs of Stephen Collins Foster,' of Alle- 
jiheny City, have attained a popularity greater than that 
of any other writer in any age or country. And he is 
regarded generally as the founder of the school of song 
known as Negro Melody — a school of song that ad- 
dresses itself to the ear and the heart, while the school 
of Jim Crow, or Negro Minstrelsy, is satisfied in delight- 
ing the ear and the eye. The association of the negro 
element in Mr. Foster's songs was, as in the case of Ne- 
gro Minstrelsy, the result of an accident in his environ- 
ment: the wharves of Pittsburgh, which the lad fre- 
quented with others of his years, being the place where 
the runaway slaves from the South, arriving on the 
steamboats, felt for the first time that they were stran- 
gers in a strange land; and, in their simple stories to the 
throngs of boys about them, of the " old folks at home, 
"way down upon the Swanee ribber," or of "the old 
Kentucky home far away," they inspired the sentiment 
which pervades the songs of Mr. Foster from beginning 
to end. In 1S14, in competition for a silver cup offered 
by a confectioner, by name Andrews, on Wood street. 
Pittsburgh, he produced the first song which gave him 
prominence as a musician; and in 1851, he published 
"The Old Folks at Home," the most popular of his cele- 
brated productions. 



The mocking-bird ! * List to its wondrous song 
Commingling many melodies in one ! 

You are deceived. It is a crowf that sings. 

Within the gilded confines of a cage 

Hung in the parlors of the opulent — 

A crow that hoarsely croaked a caw ! caw ! caw ! 

Until the Master came and caught the bird, 

And, with the touch of genius, slit its tongue, 

And tuned its voice to melody as sweet 

As ever echoed in the ear in song 

To harmonize the human heart with heaven ! 

But whence the harp, that, with concordant notes, 
The sympathetic circle of the song 
Extends beyond the compass of the crow ? 



'22C) SCIENCE AND POESY. 



You are deceived again. It is a o-ourd, 

That, hollowtd out and dried and filled with beansy 

Ran<i, rattlino; with a wild discordant noise, 

Until the Master came, and lo ! the shell, 

Strung with the heartstrings of liumanity, 

Resounded with the soul in sympathy f 

It is the Banjo, sir, that supplements 

The wondrous warblings of the slit-tongued Crow. 



* The geographical range ascribed to the mocking- 
bird, Mimus polygloitus, includes Southwestern Pennsyl- 
vania; but, in my rambles, I have never seen it in this 
region. There is a marvelous bird here, however, close- 
ly allied to the mocking-bird, and so called commonly 
by the country-folk, namely the thrasher, or ferrugin- 
ous thrush, Harporhynchus rufus, which is worthy of es- 
pecial notice. It is the thrush, referred to in "The Maid 
and the Mlrag^e," p. 166, 1. 14, of which Dr. Jackson says — 
"Its musical faculties are very little inferior to those 
of the mocking-bird, and many of its combinations for 
depth of pathos and emotion are even superior. Mount- 
ed on the topmost twig of a tree or bush, his ' full heart 
laboring with instinctive feeling,' he pours out his loud, 
clear notes, in sweet and trilling warbles, or mingled 
with low, plaintive, and tender tones." 

t The refined melodies of Mr. Foster are as far super- 
ior to the compositions of the negro of America, as the 
song of the mocking-bird is superior to the croaking of 
the crow. It is not so marvelous, hence, that a crow 
sliould sing the song of the mocking-bird, as that a ne- 
gro should be the author of "The Old Folks at Home," 
or " Massa's in the cold, cold ground." 



— 1854 — 

SCIENCE AND POESY. 



Among the treasures of the writer, he esteems of the 
greatest value a memento of friendship of the venera- 
ble philosopher and scientist, Dr. David Alter, of Free- 
port, a piece of glass, a prism in shape, a little fractured 
along the edges, but withal the prism with which this 
distinguished gentleman made the experiments which 
resulted in the discovery of the mode of scieniific inves- 
tigation known as Spectrum Analysis, an achievement. 



SCIENCE AND POESY 



B'egarded by the encyclopedists, as one of the most bril- 
2iant of the Nineteenth Century : the indisputable evi- 
■dence of which discovery, five years before an an- 
aiouncement to the same effect by Professor KirchofT, of 
Heidelberg, is to be leand in SiUiJman's American Jour- 
nal of Science and Art for the year 1854, followed by a 
more explicit article, with daguerreotypes of the Solar 
Spectrum, in the voluoie for the succeeding year of 1855. 
The writer has in preparation a paper entitled A* For- 
gotten Page in the History of Spectrum Analysis which 
will exhibit the fact of the republication in Germanj'^ of 
Dr. Alter's original papers, bringing the results of his 
experiments and deductions directly before the eyes of 
the distinguished gentleman in the sunshine of whose 
glory tlie distant star, in the constellation of South- 
western Pennsylvania, has escaped the observa- 
tion of the general gazer. 



Behind this prism of glass,* behold the eye 

Of the philosopher directed to 

The fiery furnace of the distant sun ; 

Until, afar on the periphery 

Of human knowledge thro' the sense of sight, 

He sees, as in the coal-fire in his grate. 

The elements afire and luminous — 

The elements dissevered and distinct 

As gold and silver in the sage's hand !j" 

This is the Eye of Science, sir, that looks 
Out from the centre to circumference — 
Its vision ever wid'ning with the rim. 
Until, God wot, the head of Man careens 
Among the stars a vague and vapid comet ; 
His heart forgotten with the humble earth ! 

Now, stand before this prism, upon the rim — 
The very utmost of the stretch of knowledge 
And, thro' the colors of the bow of heaven 
That play upon the glass, look back into 
The eye of the philosopher and see. 
Within its secret depth, the human Heart — 
Humanity with all its woe and weal ! 

This is the Eye of Poesy, that looks 
From the circumference in to the centre — 



228 THE SLAVE OF THE LA3IP. 

Its vision ever drawing to a point, 

Until, involving all within itself, 

The universe throbs with a sinirle Heart 



* This prism of glass, moreover, has another associ- 
ation besides its use that is worthy of notice. It was 
made by Dr. Alter from a fragment of a great mass of 
very brilliant glass found in the pot of a glass-house de- 
stroyed in the Great Fire of Pittsburgh, April 10th, 1845. 

t An addition to the old proverb of "seeing is be- 
lieving," is " and feeling is the naked truth;" that is, 
when two of the senses are satisfied, the lact may be re- 
garded as demonstrated beyond dispute. 



— 1859 — 

THE SLA YE OF THE LAMP. 



The following poem is designed to fix in the memo- 
xy of the reader the origin of the oil or petroleum which 
has made Western Pennsylvania notable throughout 
the world, namely, that it is a distillation of sea-weed — 
Kelp, Fucus, or Algee — which has grown beneath the 
surface of the water in masses similar to the Sea of Sar- 
gasso in the Atlantic of to-day ; and that it is connect- 
ed or associated with coal — the product of plants which 
have grown in the air — in no manner whatsoever, the 
theories of several savants to the contrary notwith- 
standing. The date, 1859, is memorable in the history of 
oil; for on the 28th of August of that year, in the first 
oil-well drillecj by E. L. Drake, on Oil Creek, in Cherry- 
tree township, Venango county, oil was struck at the 
depth of seventy feet — to be followed by ^ realization 
of the fables of the good old days of Haroun al Rashid. 



There once was a king, though I cannot tell when, 

Nor where, but in the sea, 
With a crown of green on his head to be seen — 

For the King of the Kelp was he. 

And a king of might was the King of the Kelp, 

And he conquered far and wide, 
Till he feared not the form of the stalking Storm, 

Nor the toss of the terrible Tide. 



THE SLATE OF THE LA^IP. 229 

But a mightier grew in the air on the land, 
And swept down from his height, 

And, in a cave beneath the wave, 

Emprisoned the King out of sight. 

And there he lay while the world went round. 

And the waters rose and fell — 
But what are Time and Tide to him 

That lies in the depth of hell — 

In the dungeon vast of the untold past, — 

In the overwhelming night 
When the golden sun its course has run, 

And the stars have lost their light ! 

Aye, there he lay and groaned and moaned, 

In the darkness of the grave; 
Till he swore by his throne that for light alone, 

He would live and die a slave ! 

A slave, with the might of the King of the Kelp, 
Who had conquered far and wide. 

Till he feared not the form of the stalking Storm, 
Nor the toss of the terrible Tide. 

When lo ! a youth, in search of truth, 

Down in a deep, deep well. 
Amazed heard the royal word 

Of the King of the Kelp in hell. 

When up he gat to secure the King 

With a chain, with clasp and clamps 

But he nothing could find wherewith to bind,, 
Save the wick of his midnight lamp. 

But the King of the Kelp was a willing slave, 
To be bound with the cotton coil ; 

When, forthwith, upon the royal throne, 
He seated the Prince of Oil ! 

The Prince of Oil, with the might of the King 
Who had conquered far and wide, 

Till he feared not the form of the stalking Storm, 
Nor the toss of the terrible Tide. 



230 THE SLAVE OF THE LAMP. 

The Prince of Oil, with his crown of flame, 

And his sceptre of woven wick, 
In the right of the slave released from the grave 

And the rendering-out of Old Nick. 

"Ho! build me a palace of marble and jet!" 
The Prince to the slave-king said ; 

And the echoing word was scarcely heard, 
Ere the roof was over his head ! 

"Now, build me a city to gird it about !'' 
And ere the Prince raised his eyes 

From the magical page of the eastern sage. 
Which he read in a modern disguise — 

A city appeared in the sight of the sun, 

As ne'er appeared city before. 
Unless a town from the clouds has come down 

In a tempest's whirl and uproar ! 

"But what are a palace and town to a king, 

Without a realm to sway?" 
When, behold ! ^"^ *^" *''""sht in ms phantasy wrought, 

A kingdom before the Prince lay ! 

" A kingdom ! Baugh ! " ^'''^ the Prince in disgust ; 

" Let my realm the great world be ! " 
"Nay," quo' the slave; "for the Prince can have 

But the might of the King of the Sea. 

" I 'give thee all that I gathered on earth. 

In the light of the summer's sun, — 
I give thee the might that was buried in night. 

And emprisoned for ages in stone — 

" But more, I cannot. Now, Prince, beware, 

How thou spendest the coin of my strength ; 

For none can help the King of the Kelp, 
When he is spent at length. 

"And none will lend the Prince to spend. 
When he has squandered his fee — 

The might of the crown ^""^ the sceptre and throne 
Of the King of the Kelp of the sea. 



MAID OF MAHONING. 231 

'•Thou hast the raagic of wealth at command, 

To build, to barter, to buy ; 
But remember *^^ quick will expire ^'^^ the wick — 

The Prince with his slave will die ! 

"Guard well thy Lamp of Life, youth, 

And with it thy royal slave ; 
For ^>' kingdom of wealth '"^ the Oil of '^^ Health , 

Will end with thy wick in the grave ! 

" Guard well thy Lamp of Life, youth. 

Thou Prince, by right of birth ; 
For the wealth of the Past in thy being amassed, 

Will be spent with thy Slave of the Earth ! " 



MAID OF 3IAH0NING. 



Maid of Mahoning,* asleep in thy bower ! 

Beauty as cold as if chiseled in stone — 
Or as the colorless wax-petaled flowerf 

Drooping in dread of the pine-forest's moan ; 
And as impassionate ! Maid of Mahoning, 

Stilled would the aspen leaf be in thy breath ; 
Hast thou no moments of sighing and moaning ? 

Art in the Yale of the Shadow of Death ? 

Hark ! 'tis a voice from the lips, that, close- 
pressing. 
Oft to thine own , behind secresy's veil, 
Glowing with rapture's protracted caressing, ^ 

Measured the moments of bliss, like a snail ! 
Know'st thou that voice in the wild night im- 
ploring ? 
Yea, though the tempest and torrent combine — 
Drowning all sounds in the flood of their roar- 

Sleeping or waking, that voice thou'dst define ! 

Maid of Mahoning, a faint flush is creeping 
Over thy white neck and over thy brow ; 



INDECISION". 



CrimsoD thj face is — oh, canst thou be sleeping; T 
Canst in thy dreaming again hear his vow ? 

Maid of Mahoning, ah, why dost thou tremble, 
And thy breath quicken — at what fond! 
alarms ? 

Cannot the heart in thy bosom dissemble ? 
Sleeping or waking, wouldst be in his arms ? 

Maid of Mahoning, oh, dream on forever ; 

Web after web weave in phantasy's loom ; 
Wake not to wail that realities sever — 

Wake not to weep at mortality's tomb ! 
Maid of Mahoning:, in dreams with thy lover, 

Limpet thy lips in a soul-suctioned kiss ; 
Then let the tide of time rise and roll over, 

Thou wilt en-angel the Spirit of Bliss ! 



* "Tlie next spring, we moved to a town about fif- 
teen miles off, called Mo-ho-ning, which signifies a 
Yiiik..''''— McCullough. 

t The wax-pipe, Monotvopa unijiora. See note on 
page 192. 



INDECISION. 



With every waver in her mind, 

A quiver in my heart, I find ; 

My faith and doubt turn with her thought 

" I love her" and " I love her not ! " 

I could not change in feeling faster 

Were I divining with an aster. 

And felt alternate love and hate 

As leaves alternate fixed my fate. 



ANOTHER. 



The trout in the transparent stream 
Doth like the pebbled channel seem ; 
So changeful with her thoughts I prove 
Tell me, my heart, if this be love ? 



THE DARE-DEVIL YOUGH. 233 



THE DARE-DEVIL YOUGH. 



The Yough is the familiar abbreviation of 'the 
Youghiogheny — an aspirated Ohio-gheny, signifying, 
the River of Blood. When tlie following lines were 
written in 1874, and set to music, by the writer, the song, 
published by Knake & Co., of Pittsburgh, was dedicated 
to Mr. H. Clay Frick. of Broadford — a dedication which 
J beg leave here to renew in appreciation of the sterling 
<iualities which inspired the sentiment of the 
second stanza of the song. 

The description, in the fii'st stanza, applies to the 
river in the gap of the Chestnut Ridge, below 
the Ohio Pyle Falls. 



AVhere the bluff Alleghanies rise rugged and 
rough, 

And fetters and bars for a continent forge. 
There dashes defiant the dare-devil Yough, 

Through rocky ravine, deep dell, and grim 
gor^e ! 
To this river I drink ; for akin to my blood, 

Is its torrent so bold, and so buoyant and free, 
Braving bowlder and crag with impetuous flood. 

As onward resistless it rolls to the sea ! 

And here's to the man with a will like the 
Yough — 
A will that would wield as a weapon the 
world, 
Daring all, and defying even Death with a scoff, 
When over the brink of decision he's hurled ! 
'Tis the man that I love, the bold and the brave, 

Converging his might to the channel of aim ; 
From the mountain of life to the gulf of the 



grave, 
[ng on 
Fame ! 



Rolling on like the Yough to the ocean of 



And here's to the woman aflood with the tide 
That bursts from the mountain-height's foun- 
tain of love, 



234 MONONGAIIELA. 

On whose billow the barks of futurity glide, 
Until anchored in bliss in eternity's cove ! 
'Tis the woman I love ; and the free bounding 
wave, 
That breaks in the course of my hot, throb- 
bing blood. 
Is the might of the love in return that she gave — 
A might that's akin to the Yough^s rushing 
flood ! 



MONONGAHELA. 



"The word Monongahela is said to signify, in some 
of the Indian languages, the Falling-in-Banlis, that is, 
the stream of theFalling-in or Mouldering Banks."— ^. 
H. Brackenridge : Pittsburgh Gazette, July 26, 1786. The 
popular synonym or translation is, however, Old Muddy 
Banks. It is the type of the melancholic — the " dark- 
ened blood " of the song — as the Dare-devil Yough is 
the type of the impetuous and determined. The poet, 
in the following lines, is supposed to be standing 
upon the bank of the river. 



Monongahela's muddy bank, 

When mirrored in its murky flood. 
Is not as sombre, dull, and blank, 

As shades that cross my darkened blood ! 
Ah, woe the day when living love. 

Incarnate sunshine, warmth, and light, 
An image without life should prove — 

The phantom of a dream at night ! 

The sun is set ; the sky o'ercast 

With heavy clouds, low hung and black ; 
Monongahela's ot the past, 

Engulfed within the storm and rack ! 
But deepest night and darkest storm, 

Their gloom combined, cannot efface 
The faintest image of her form 

Reflected in a conscious glass ! 



THE JEWELS I PRIZE. 235 



The storm is o'er; the clouds are riven ; 

The stars rejoicing glint and gleam ; 
I see them in this second heaven, 

Monongahela's murky stream ; 
But in the mirror of my mind, 

No rays of hope and joy are shed ; 
The blue eyes of the shade are blind — 

The shade's the image of the dead ! 



THE JEWELS 1 PRIZE. 



Let the miserly hoard up their symbols of self, 

Their copper and silver and gold, 
Their jewels and gems — base, mineral pelf, 

Inanimate, senseless, and cold ! 
But to me give the treasures of life's tidal flood. 

Impassioned and sentient, and warm, 
That burst into being and beauty with blood, 

In woman, life's lovliest form ! 

To me give the jewels of mirth and delight, 

With which nothing earthy can vie — 
The diamonds that flash with a welcoming light, 

And gleam in a fond woman's eye, 
To me give the jewels of gladness and bliss. 

The heart's fondly found treasure-trove 
The rubies that flush with a passionate kiss. 

Instinctive, responsive to love ! 

And the golden metal called precious is dross. 

When compared to the golden net, 
Which Nature has woven of light-flowing floss, 

And out in the stream of life set ; 
And oh, to be caught in that golden mesh, 

And tangled with love's deftest art, 
To feel as it tightens the quivering flesh. 

And the beat of a fast throbbing heart ! 



236 love's holy grace. 



LOVE'S HOLY GRACE. 



The eye being in the heart and not in the head, ( see 
page 197,) there is nothing more beautiful in nature to a 
lover than the charms of the object beloved — nor noth- 
ing more common than to sanctify the sins of one's 
commission by the grace of organic greed. 



Yes, bright be the dew that bespangles 

The spider's gauze web in the grass, 
Reflecting the dawn as it dangles, 

In its fairy-formed, globular glass ; 
But brighter my darling's eye beaming 

With the fire of a lip-quiv'ring kiss, 
Its sparkles a galaxy gleaming, 

Illuming a heaven of bliss. 

And red be the maple buds* breaking 

When Spring awakes frost-nipped at dawn, 
When ice-beaded branches are shaking. 

And showering pearls on the lawn ; 
But redder my darling's cheek-blossom 

That bursts into loveliest charms, 
When Winter has fled from her bosom, 

And Summer has come in my arms ! 

And pure »§^ the wave of the fountain i>*- 

That wells in the moss-bosomed nook. 
And breaks o'er the rocks of the mountain, 

In a free, joyous, loud-laughing brook ; 
But purer the blood, though it's burning, 

That thrills in my lov'd one's embrace ; 
For the heart-throb that trembles with yearning 

Is hallowed by love's holy grace ! 



* The red, or swamp maple, ^cer rubrum. "In 
spring, the appearance of the tree is remarkable for the 
deep crimson flowers with which it is thickly clothed." 
— Wood. 



OH, I WOULD LOVE YOU ALWAY I 237 



OH, I WOULD LOVE YOU ALWAY. 



Oh, I would kiss your lips — your lips — 

Oh, I would kiss your lips — 
When warm and moist m the moroing of life ; 
When hot and parched in the noonday strife; 
When burnt out ashes at evening's rest ; 
When clammy and cold as the clay that pressed 

In the night that knows no dawn. 

And I would look in your eye — y»ur eye — 
And I would look in your eye — 

When blue and bright in the morning's gleam ; 

When gray and dazed in the midday's beam ; 

When red and ringed in the gloaming's light ; 

When black and glazed and bli«d in the night — 
In the night that knows no dawn. 

Oh, I would love you alway — alway — 

Oh, I would love you alway — 
In the flash of life of the maid in the morn ; 
In the flush of noon by the mother borne ; 
In the shadow of grandmother's eventide ; 
In the darkness — yea, and whatever betide 

In the night that knows no dawn ! 



THE HEART ENTOMBED. 



On yonder hill, when clothed in summer's green, 

There's but a leafy thicket to be seen ; 

But when disrobed by winter, and laid bare, 

A grave's white head-stone is seen standing there. 

So social Mira summers to a blush. 
Leaves to a smile and flowers to a flush ; 
While, sad and lonely, she, with blighted bloom, 
Sighs for the dead and winters to a tomb ! 



!38 LOVING AND LONGING. 



LOVING AND LONGING. 



I've seen a maiden young and trim, 
Sit down alone and sigh for him ; 
Day after day, year after year, 
Until her eyes grew weak and blear — 
Until her hair grew white and thin — 
Until her bones grew thro' her skin — 
Until — her hope did not forsake her - 
Her corpse embraced an undertaker ! 

So I have seen a tender goose, 
To quit her nesting place refuse, 
And, in a hopeful mother-mood, 
Upon a cold potato brood. 
Until — to all the world forgotten, 
And the potato long since rotten — 
She was too weak and numb to move, 
And died in the fond hope of love. 

Ah, what a blessing to creation, 
A loving heart and expectation ! 



THE EYE AND THE IMAGINATION. 



The eye lays an egg — 

Imagination hatches it ; 
The eye bends to beg — 

Imagination snatches it. 
The eye clothes a maid — 

Imagination strips her ; 
The eye turns afraid — 

While imagination grips her 

AN EPIGRAM. 



A nose, not well put out of joint, 
Nor long in coming to the point. 



THE DEMON LOVER. 239 



THE DEiMON LOVER. 



From ten, when she kissed her fond mother good- 
night, 
Until twelve, Isabel, at the window, has sat. 
In the shaded light's gloom of a still, curtained 
room, 
When lo ! through the casement there flutters 
a bat! 

A bat, in a suit of the unseen at night, 

On a wing of the silence that will not alarm, • 

When behold ! in the gloom of the still, cur- 
tained room, 
The wing of the bat has become a man's arm ! 

The wing of the bat has become a man's arm, 
That encircles the form of the fond, watchins: 
maid, 
In a silent embrace that is throbbing and warm, 
Till a hot breath has left and lost all in a 
shade ! 



But behold ! the bright sun of midsummer has 
risen. 
And gone with the bat are the shades of the 
night ; 
E'en the mocking-bird swings in its bright gilded 
prison, 
And merrily sings in unfeigned delight ! 

But thrice has the breakfast bell rung in the hall, 
Ere Isabel tremblingly trips down the stair. 

With her hand on the baluster, lest she may fall, 
And the flower of yesterday still in her hair ! 

" My daughter ! my daughter ! what aileth thee, 
tell? 
As the dead thou art cold, as the dead thou art 
white ! " 



240 GRAVEYARD GROTESQUES 

" mother ! mother ! I'm happy and well — 
I have seen but a bat in my room the past 
night." 

"But a bat?" "Yes, a bat." ''Only that? '' 
"Only that." 
"Then a bat let it be and thou happy and 
well ; 
But, my daughter, beware, lest the flowe? in thy 
hair, 
That has faded o'er night be not burnt — 
where bats dwell ! " 

Aye, call him a bat, and a bat he becomes, 
As many old fables of phantasy tell : 

He that sucks the warm blood of inflamed maid- 
enhood, 
Is well understood in the Vampire of Hell ! 



GRAVE YARD GROTESQUES. 



Since graveyards yawn, why may they not, then, 

laugh. 
And Epigram poke fun at Epitaph, 
Till tombstones hold their sides with bated breath, 
And smiles sepulchral wreathe the skull of Death ! 



"Tread lightly here — " Ah, yes ; perhaps, 
Our feet are shod with thorns ; 

Or worse than that — Jehosophat ! 

The corpse may be covered with corns I 



" Here lies James Hyer — " No further enquire, 

For the leopard cannot 

Change a single spot. 
And no more can his nature, a liar 1 



GRAVEYARD GROTESQUES. 241 



" Here rests in peace Lewellyn Khees 

I prithee read no more '^ 
For leaving life, he left his wife 



And everlasting war ! 



"Tread lightly here — " What mockery ! 

Addressing thyself to one 
Who weighs no more than ninety-four, 

Thou stone that weighest a ton ! 



''She was a thrifty wife — " She was, indeed ; 
I've seen her in her hour of housewife need, 
O'er her bare legs her husband's breeches pull. 
And comb his head with a three-legged stool I 



"Remember, man, as you pass by, 
As you are now so once was I — " 
Jake Simpson, you're a wicked liar ^ 
You were a clerk, while I'm a 'Squire ! 



" Tread lightly, stranger, as you pass, 

For Samuel Greer 

Is lying here — " 
Ah, yes ; I remember his left eye was glass ! 



" Gone to meet his mother-in-law 
May I be curst, 
But that's the worst 

Of Epitaphs I ever saw ! 



" Here lies Jane Brown — " Don't speak so loud 
Lest the flirt arise 
^ yLo attract your eyes. 
By wajving the tail of her shroud I 



His model, Beauty, with the sculptor's art. 
The poet shapes the marble of the Heart. 



2rl2 A LETTER TO A LABT.. 



A LETTER TO A LADY. 



Nature has made you, Mary, huuaaa, 
To be by thought and feeling moved ^ 

Nature has made you, Mary, woman, 
To be of Q>ai>kind The Beloved. 

But Art would make you, Mary, gold^r> — 

An idol in your fopm attired, 
To be by distant eyes beholden 

And in their stariog The Admired. 

Nature has OKide you, Mary, charming^ 
That in seclusion you may meet 

Attention in you^ service arming T 

To lay Ddvoti'on at yoar feet. 

But art would make you, Mary, dashing^ 
That, sex defying^ you might move, 

And hurl, amid your thunder's crashing, 
The lightnings of a mimic Jove ? 

Beware I beware ! The man who kneels* 
Before the golden calf of Art, 

Hypocrisy alone he feels — 
Klse he's a groveler ao heart 1 

And so beware the man who falls 
Before the tbunder-bolt of Art ; 

He but o^eys the prompter's calls, 
And on the stage plays the fool's part. 

Be Nature's maiden^ Mary, human. 
As youth and health and beauty can ; 

And learn that he who loves a woman, 
Loves only as becomes a man. 

He comes — he wooes ; but that alone 
Is but the blowing of a bubble ; 

She waits — receives ; then all is done — 
Love in humanity is double. 



A LETTER TO A I.ADY. 243 

^0, Step by step, mark his advance, 

That comes, as it becomes a true man — 

Impelled by feeling — not by chance — 
To love as man may love a woman. 

If you disoern a-ught in his form 

That clouds futurity's clear sky ; 
It is a presage of a storm ; 

Take heed io time — Let him pass by. 

If not, and he comes like the Sun 

Diffusing rouad him warmth and light, 

Until, his course through winter run, 

He gleaming climbs the vernal height — 

And you, another earthy receive — 
Meltiag from formal ice aod snow-, 

Until the frosts of distrust leave, 
Aod violets confiding grow — 

Eemain another earth, iu faith, 

That Nature doth your course approve :; 

For there's no Joshua but Death 
To staj the climbing Sun of love. 

And Summer will as surely warm 
For you as for our Mother Earth • 

For you are she in woman's form 
Evolved through eonids of birth. 

Then, Mary, be yourself, the creature 
Whom Nature hath in you approved ; 

Incarnate woman-earth of Nature, 
Be, by the Sun of man, beloved 1 

And let the nameless works of Art, 
In man's or woman's form attired, 

Be banished from your head and heart 
To the cold moon, to be admired. 



244 TO YOU, MAN. 

TO YOU, MAN. 

When tfae lips of a wonaaa — 
Be she lovely and wise ! — 

Speak falsely to you, Man, 

With the blackguard, she lies. 

When the vow of a woman — 
Be she precious in pelf J — 

Is broken to you, Man, 
She perjures herself 

When the kiss of a woman — 
Be she blushing to scarlet \ — 

Is envenomed to you, Man, 
It's the kiss of a harlot. 

When the soul of a woman. 
In selfishness nursed, 

Is deceitful to you, Man, 
In itself it's accursed. 

Then bid such a woman 
An eternal farewell, 

If You are a true man. 
And would escape hell ! 



TO 



When the storm of passion pervades the heart, 
And the clouds crash together, the lightning will 

dart : 
Perchance to slay, with a dagger of light. 
The babe asleep in its cradle at night ; 
Perchance to save, like a beacon of heaven. 
The tempest-tossed ship to the rock of wreck 

driven ! 
But, believe, in the calm of the head above, 
The flash of the Heart has been forethought by 

Love ! 



LITER ART HERMIT CRABS. "245 



LITERARY HERMIT CRABS. 

There be efee-certayne ermit€ crabbes amonge 
¥e ineu'a€ of letteres who mdyte in songe, 
And lie is of them who wille backe ye breec-bc 
Of his bare witte into anotberes speeche — 
Wrythe in y-e ooovoktions of rime, 
An be ye poete wheUce were alle ye tymel 
But Oodde a mercye on-ne his sillye barte., 
He is swycli« only i« bis byndere parte ! 



There are, too, certain bermit crabs among 
The men of letters who indite a song .; 
And he is of them who will back the brecck 
Of his bare wit into another's speech — 
Writhe in the oonvoktions of bis rhyme. 
As if he were the poet all the time ! 
But Qodi bave mercy on bis simple beart. 
He is such only <in his hinder part i 



ASTRONOMICAL, 



Nay, ®ay, Leo ore ; astronomy is not 
A science to be buried and forgot^ 
It hath its uses — to define a kiss ; 
A shooting-star across the sky of bliss :; 
That seems a star of love to youthful eyes ; 
But is a meteor unto tbe wise, 
That differs from a star of love as far 
As doth a spark from an eternal star ! 



A FO UR TH OF JUL Y AL TERN A TIVE, 



Either America's eagle on high, 
In tbe blue vault of empyrean sky, 
Or a — this glorious Fourth of July — 
Musca volens in a bloodshotten eye ! 



^46 THE LAST KISS OF LOVE. 



THE LAST KISS OF LOVE, 



Confound it, Kate, Byron was crazy. 
To extol so the first kiss of love, 

Or worse, too intolerably lazy i- 

To learn what comparisons prove. 

The first kiss of love ! — what is in it? 

No matter if stolen and sweet, 
It flashes away in a minute, 

And you cannot the first kiss repeat 1 

Why, any man, Kate, in his senses, 

Beginning to kiss in the past, 
Continues in all moods and tenses. 

And reaches ahead for the last ! 

The last kiss of love's, odd or even, 

The number that can't be surpassed — 

In the ladder that leads up to heaven, 

Sure, the round is the best that comes last ! 



TO 



When I was lost in melancholy's night. 
With naught but darkness in my staring sight. 
Afar the music of your voice 1 heard — 
And lo ! a star appeared with every word ! 
Until, I stood beneath a gleaming throng — 
In the soft light of heaven — in your song ! 



ON A RINGING BELL. 



Ah, the heartless, cold, indifferent bell ! 
With loud-tongued clangor ringing as well 
A wedding chime as a doleful knell — 
Ding ! dong ! ding to heaven ! ding ! dong ! 
ding to hell ! 



love's rule of three. 247 



LOVE'S RULE OF THREE. 



The time — whenever it is dark is best for speedy 

wooing \ 
For many, when they cannot see, don't know what 

they are doing. 

The place — wherever none but two can either 

see or hear. 
Without a lantern in the hand or trumpet to the 

ear. 

The circumstance — a bit of wood with, at one 

• end and other, 
Phosphoric mixture and mere force, and nothing 
near to smother. 



FATE. 



Ah, who can fathom the depth of Fate? 

Two girls part at the college gate — 

Two girls with kindred heart and soul, 

Like two trees with a common bole, — 

As like as twins, their chances even 

For life on earth or love in heaven ; 

And yet before a twelve-month flies 

The one is wed, the other — dies ! 

The clock strikes east and the clock strikes west 

The one is happy, the other blest ! 

Eleven — twelve ! — the nuptial kiss ; 

Eleven — twelve ! — eternal bliss I 

The bride of Life and the bride of Death — 

The one bound with an orange wreath, 

The other crowned with immortelle ! 

While, ding ! ding ! 

The church-bells ring 
A wedding-chime and a woeful knell ! 



24S zpiGRAsrSv. 



TO A SILKWORM. 

Spin, spia, thou silk-reeliag worm^ 

For oar kdy aaother thready 
That a gown may thrill to encircle her forrn^ 

When thoa art forgotten and dead. 

Siog, sing, O importunate voiee^ 
. For our lady another strain, 
That an echo may live i>n her soul ancf rejoi^ev 
WheB thou art heard aever agai^n ! 



HEE CHARACTER. 

• 
She was^ in everything she &aid and did^ biit 
human — 
Her vice and virtue in these two lines yoia 
naay scan : 
As false as only woman ca» be false to woman^ 
And true as only woman can be true to maa. 



KA TY-DID. 



Aye, Katy did and kindly^ 
As alone a woman can, 

In her innocence love blindly^ 
A wicked, worthless man. 



DESPAIR, 



Ah, yes ; I have lived : I have loved and have 

lost! 
The earth is but ashes and I am a ghost I 



Rhymes and jingles, 
Jingles and rhymes, 

Till the ear tingles 
And aches betimes. 



ONCE, AND ONCE ONLY. 249 



ONCE, AND ONCE ONLY, 



He that sees the same object twice, is blind in the 

second seeing ; 
He that lives the same moment again, is dead for 

the instant being. 

He that breathes the same air twice, breathes 

bane in the second breath ; 
Opposing, the new is the habit of life, the old is 

the habit of death. 

Earth is ubiquity changeful to man, in season, in 

weather and sky ; 
Else with repeated sensations of same, he'd weary, 

then madden, and die. 

Wouldst thou have proof, to the dungeon cell go, 

the waste of the desert or sea. 
Or in thy bed lie awake in the night, and one 

sound and sight hear and see. 

If thou, Philosopher, wouldst live, indeed, the 

highest existence on earth, 
Let no sensation — or feeling or thought — have 

in thee a second birth. 

If thou, fond Lover, wouldst climb to love's height, 

repeat not a step of thy bliss, 
But, to a mile-dream prolong every thought — to 

a thousand leagues a kiss. 

Once, only once in love's passion embrace, then 
nobly — most gloriously die, 

Pinnacled on the most heavenly height in human- 
ity's rapturous sky 1 

Or live, to totter down, step after step, decaying 

in pace with thy lust, 
Till at the foot, thou art laid out a corse — a 

stench amid rottenest dust I 



!50 THE VOICE OF THE ANVIL. 



THE VOICE OF THE ANVIL. 



Aye, a merry old man am I — 

And a wink is as ^ood as a nod — 
I ne'er let the rust eat into my trust 

In my anvil and my God ! 
Though in the grave are my wife and child^ 

And I am the last of my clan. 
Yet my heart is light from morning till night. 

In doing the best that I can. 
I work away from day to day, 
And while I work to God I pray ; 
With my iron anvil's voice, 
I worship and rejoice. 

Aye, a merry old man am I, 

While I hear my anvil ring 
In sweet accord, while to the Lord 

I work away and sing — 
Sing in the trust of my anvil and God, 

From morning until even, 
That the voice of mirth once beloved on earth, 

May still be heard in heaven ! 
Until I moulder into dust, 
And my old anvil turns to rust. 
When, among the loved and blest, 
I shall forever rest. 



— 1864 — 

THE LEGEND OF THE WEEPING 
WILLOW. 



The dates prefixed to this and succeeding poems in 
this volume indicate tlie years in which they were writ- 
ten, in order that, if read aright, the Reader may see the 
growth of the writer as his environment enlarged with 
his years, or its centre, shifting with himself in his 
travels in the light of the sun among the living and in 
the light of his lamp among the dead, involved impres- 



THE WEEPING-WILLO^\". 251 



«ions foreign to the Little World of Southwestern Penn- 
sylvania, an expression of which through one of its 
growths this book purports to be. 



The weeping-willow, to which the legend refers, 
since the publication of the poem in 1864, has fallen be- 
fore the axe. It stood at the spring on the Salem road, 
half a mile north of Qreensburg, And, as if to turn 
the whole subject topsy-turvy — i. e., as Grose will have 
it, topside-turfways — while the tree is among the things 
that were, the heroine is living still ; and the hero, in- 
stead of being a soldier in the war of 1812, was, in reali- 
tj' a sailor — that is, he drove a mule on the " raging 
■canawl " in the service of the Old State Robber, and the 
only battle in which he engaged was one with his team 
on the towpath in which he was slain by a movement 
in the rear of the enemy ! But thus it has been ever 
with poesy and prose! 



The maple leaves were weaving shrouds 

Of colors bright and gay, 
From Autumn's gold and purple clouds 

That deck the dying day. 



When down the way a lady fair 

Rode merrily with me ; 
Whilst loosely hung her auburn hair 

From ribband fetters free. 



Near Fanny's Wood, then as we rode, 

The lady, pointing, said, 
" See yonder willow by the wood 

That weeping, bows its head ! " 



*' Yes," answer'd I. Continued she, 
" A legend touching, true, 

Has made the same tree dear to me - 
Would like it told to you?" 



252 THE WEEPING- WILLOW. 

** Yes; thanks. A tale but told ibj j-ou 

Was ever dear to me/' , 
She, sighing, told this Legend true 

Of the Weeping Willow-tree. 



When, two and fifty years ago, (1812) 

The fearful tocsin rung^, 
War ! war ! against an English foe, 

To right our country's wrong ! 

A soldier, young and gallant, rode 

To bid a last adieu 
To one who dwelt within this wood, 

A maid, his sweetheart true. 

Down yonder hill, with slackened rein, 

His way he sadly led ; 
The horse partook his master's pain 

Aud lowly hung his head. 

A lithe and slender willow wand — 

The rider's only goad — 
Hung loosely in the soldier's hand 

As on he slowly rode. 

And as he passed this flowing spring, 

He startled at a sound, — 
He heard his loved one sweetly sing, — 

The switch fell to the ground. 

To yonder oak the horse was tied ; 

The rod, unthought-of, lay 
Till found by the intended bride. 

And waves this tree to-day.* 



" Farewell. Within the coming year, 

If then the Briton's fled, 
I'll come again to thee, my dear, 

If not, believe me dead. 



THE WEEPING- WILLOW. 253 



"A soldier idly speaks of death, 

Thea start not at the name ; 
With him 'tis but an empty breath, 

Another word for fame. 

^' But if I live — a happy life, 

Return I then to lead, 
To live, to love, with thee, my wife — " 

Her thought of death was fied. 

For th' hope c€ love dreams not of deatli, 

Of happiness alone ; 
It twines not in its flowery wreath 

The weed of deadly tone. 

Her eyes, though tearful, quickly shon<5 
With inward love-warmth true : 

The rose-bud sparkling in the sun 
When wet with morning's dew. 

*'Then fare thee well. A woman's love. 

Hopes, prays the same i3ome true, 
Yes, nightly prays to Him above 

To keep from danger you, 

^' A year, though long the time it seems. 

And much of sorrow brings, 
Yet, happy thoughts and happy dreams 

Will lend it swiftest wings. 

^' And if, forsooth, you come not then ? 

See yonder ivy spread 
Its leaves so fresh and green, e'en when 

The oak it clings to's dead. " 

^' A noble vow," the soldier said, 
"Of faithful love out-spoken; 

To keep my heart from fear and dread 
I need no other token. 

^' -Twill cheer me when the winter's blast 
Blows chilly through the camp, 

And warm the sod on which I'm cast 
Though deadly cold and damp. 



254 THE WEEPING WILLOW. 

"The stormy wind its force has sped. 

The winter frost's no harm, 
The frozen ground's a downy bed, 

When all within is warm. 

« 

" A farewell kiss of love ? — one more ? — 

Oh, had some Indian drug 
Prolonged that bliss forever more, 

No other Heaven I'd beg. " 



Many years their flight had ta'en : 
The Briton long had fled : 

Yet, came the soldier not again, 
For he was with the dead. 

The faithful maid yet knew this not, 
And still her dreams were bright : 

The day of hopeful woman's thought 
Has neither cloud nor night. 

And upward looked the maid to God, 
As the dead her heart still kept ; 

And upward grew the willow rod 
And drooped its head and wept. 

And now this willow weeps above 
The maiden's lonely grave, 

An emblem of her faithful love, — 
And long such may it wave. 



An honest tear for the faithful maid 
Came trickling down my cheek. 

When 'neath the weeping-willow's shade 
The lady ceased to speak. 



* A branch of the weeping-wiUow , Salix Bab}/lo7iica, 
when stuck into moist soil will take root and grow into 
a tree : each branch of a tree being in fact a tree in it- 
self at a certain stage of development. 



THE LOVE-LORN LADY's LAMENT. 255 



— 1866 — 

THE LOVE-LORN LADY'S LAMENT. 



Involving the writer's surroundings while pursuing 
the study of conchology at Washington City: the song 
itself being the result of association with singers 
of similar ballads. 

Attracting the attention of Col. Robert Morrow, one 
of the Secretaries of the President, Hon. Andrew John- 
son, this poem led to an intimacy which resulted in a 
joint production, a drama, entitled, "At Twelve 
O'clock," the initial point of which being the sentiment 
of the song. In 1874, the writer amplified this drama in 
his Christmas story. -'Zomara: A Romance of Spain." 



I saunter on the sandy shore, 

Where the waves seemed merry girls, 
Bedecking themsel's with seaweed and shells. 

And flowers of foam in their curls ; 
Where now I see in the foam a shroud, 

As if tossed on eternity's bed, 
And hear a moan from the depths unknown — 

Alas ! he is dead ! he is dead ! 

T wander through the wooded glen. 

Where Nature seemed a child. 
That prattled among the birds in song, 

And in the flow'rets smiled ; 
Where now the deadly nightshade grows. 

And the owl echoes, over head, 
The clods' mournful sound ^' ^^^^ '''' ''' *" ground — 

Alas ! o'er the dead ! o'er the dead ! 

Ah ! there is no beauty again to the eye 

That bedews a lover's mould. 
And no more music again to the ear 

That has heard a lover knolled ; 
When *^« heartstrings "'^ ''^''' ^^ *^" Harper "' Death, 

And the soul to the discord is wed, 
The head and the heart are forever apart — 

Alas ! he is dead ! he is dead ! 



25(T THE REBUKE OF THE SAGE. 

— 1869 — 

THE REBUKE OF TEE SAGE: 



Involving the writer's access to the Oriental literrj 
tare contained in the Library of Congress, and the ex- 
perience of a voyage on the Atlantic — a storm off Cape- 
Hatteras — and the sight of the sparkling of tlie sej^ 
^'ith its teeming billions of animaltculee. 



'^Within this book the universe is planned, 
Head it, if ye the whole would'st understand ! 
Cried out the boastful Spirit of the Age 
Unto the hoary-headed Hindoo Sage. 



SAGE. 

From this bold crag, what soest thou in the 



SPIRIT. 

"^I see naught but the waves in wild commotion^ 
Their upreared ragged crests snow-white and 

bright 
With a strange, lustrous, phosphorescent light." 

SAGE. 

'• Look up, DOW, into the great vault of heaven ? '' 

SPIRIT. 

"I see the stars — the Crowu, the Polar Seven, 
The Pleiades, and that broad band of light, 
The Milky Way, across the brow of night." 

SAGE. 

" Presumptuous man, and would'st thou bid me 

look 
Within the narrow compass of thy book, 
To know the universe, its moving cause, 
Its ultimate design and governing laws ; 



THE TWO TOWERS. 257 

"When, 'twixt a mite and world, thy piercing eye 
The smallest difference cannot descry ; 
When to thy keen discriminating; sight, 
In myriads they both appear as light 1 

'•Gro, take a drop of ocean's sparkling brine, 
And make its hidden secrets wholly thine, 
And thou hast, of the universal plan. 
Learned more than ever yet has vain, vain man. 

"Write down the individual alone. 
Before the sum of the Unknown and Known ; 
The Known Finite will tell whenever writ 
All kuowledo;e of the Unknown Infinite." 



— 1871 — 

THE TWO TOWERS. 

AN ALLEGORY OF WINTER AND AGE. 

Removing from Washington City to his native place, 
Greensburg, the phenomena of the severer winters of 
Southwestern Pennsylvania, in comparison with those 
of the District of Columbia liad their effect upon the 
writer, as the following contrasts will exhibit. 



J. 

THE TOWER OF FIRE. 



Stern Winter lifts his heavy hand ! 

His brow a scowl 

In the lowering cloud ; 

His voice a howl. 

Wild, high and loud, 

In the storm that sweeps over the land — 

Over the hilltop, and over the heath, 

Giving to every cranny a breath 

To mimic the wail of woe unto Death. 

The timid leaves, at the first faint sound, 
Fly, fluttering, helpless, to the ground, 



!58 THE TWO TOWERS. 



And, for shelter, look 

Into every nook, 

Even into the watery wards of the brook. 

The lordly oak and the lowly bramble 

Together tremble ; 

And the lapped up lake aod the burly river 

Quake and quiver, 

Shudder and shiver. 

Flown are the warblers of holm and hedge ; 

And, a living wedge 

To the warm South driven. 

Flock after flock of geese^*" has riven 

The troubled heaven. 

Withered and wind-strewn are weed and flower ; 

E'en the thistle,t bold 

In his stronghold — 

His thorny castle and prickly tower, 

Has lost the ruddy glow of his face, 

Shrank to a ghost, 

And wanders about like a spirit lost, 

Wind and storm tossed, 

Anywhere — 

A flitting flake of the pallor of fear 

Blindly seeking a resting place. 

And Man, who alone wields the weapon of wit — 

Who saddles and bridles the ocean horse, 

And with steam tor a spur, a compass a bit, 

Rides where he lists on the wide-world course ; 

Who yokes the oxen of water and wind. 

His corn to grind ; 

Who changes the dart, by the lightning hurled, 

To a carrier-d(»ve ; 

Who soars, on the pinions of gas, above 

The woe and the wail of a wicked world, 

To that good and happy land of love, 

Where holy spirits are feigned to move, — 

Even Man, the bold, 

Grows chill and cold, 



THE TWO TOWERS. 259 

When Winter uplifts his heavy hand, — 

When his scowl 

And his howl 

Darken and deafen the 'frighted land, — 

Even Man, the bold. 

Grows chill and cold, 

In dread of stern Winter's icj ire, 

And bolts and bars his main stronghold, 

His Tower of Fire! 



Stern Winter has struck with a heavy hand ! 

Frozen and numb, 

Palsied and dumb. 

Stark and stiflF a corpse lies the land ! 

The pallor of snow is over all, 

And icicles tassel the funeral pall. 

Congealed is the blood of river and lake. 
Yet hark ! from the depths profound. 
Where Winter can neither strike nor wound, 
You can hear the billows' surge — 
A coronach wild, a dismal dirge. 
At the dead land's wake. 

Now, where is Man, 

Who dares the demons and devils of nature 

As no other creature 

Can? 

Unscathed, unscarred, 

By Winter's blow, 

Dealt heavy and hard 

With shot and shell of ice and snow, 

Aloft he stands in his Tower of Fire; 

And the terrible ire 

Of Winter dire, 

The little hero now dares to defy. 

You can read these words in his flaming eye, 

" I'll conquer thee yet before I die ; 

This Tower shall be thy funeral pyre ! " 

The worldly reel turns round and round, 



THE TWO TOWERS. 



The yarn of time is wound and wound, 
Till a six-months' hank is run ; 
When lo ! the Sun, 
In a blue and balmy midday sky, 
Stands high ! 

And Winter has gone and Summer come ! 

No icy daggers on cottage eaves, 

But nourishing rain in gentle showers ; 

No midnight hoar-frost skeleton-leaves ; 

But bright and blooming noonday flowers ; 

And the tempest drum 

And the wild wind fife, 

That led stern Winter to war and strife, 

Are drowned in the brown bee's peaceful hum 

And Death, perforce, 

Himself is a corse, 

For all is aglow with the lustre of life ! 



'o' 



And the death of the land, 

By a blow of stern Winter's heavy hand, 

A fiction — a dream — 

A poet's theme ! 



Nought but a fiction — a dream — 

A poet's theme : 

Yet such things may fall in the scales of the mind, 

And kick the beam 

To good or evil : 

Less, by far, 

Can make or mar 

A golden harvest to rustic hind — 

Rain-drop or weevil ! | 

For though the Mind 

Is a wizard king. 

To draw in the skull his magic ring, 

And raise the spirits of water and wind — 

Kelpie, goblin and ghost, 

Aye, and the genii of earth's dark caves. 

And the fiends of fire — 



THE TWO TOWERS. 261 



A host 

Of willing, abject, able slaves, 

To make a deed of their master's desire; 

Yet it seldom can rule that little elf, 

Itself; ' 

But, with nimble motion. 

At the prick of a whim, or the spur of a notion, 

It turns it about, with supple joints, 

To one or the other cardinal points 

Of the moralist's compass, good or evil, 

God or Devil. 



IL 
THE TOWER OF PR A YER. 

Age, like a dancing fay. 

Tiptoed lightly from day to day — 

The stepping stones laid in the stream of time ; 

And the sound of his footsteps fell 

Like the faintest notes of a distant bell 

Ringing an evening's chime. 

Yet, step by step he grew 

In size and strength, till every thew 

Was hard and stiff as the archer's yew ; 

And from a child. 

With manners mild, 

He wax^d wrathful, warlike, and wild. 

And still, unheeded he stalked by the side 

Of Man in the height of a victor's pride. 

Till lo ! looming up like a tower on high, 

Or Brocken spectre || against the sky. 

Before his victim he takes a stand. 

And raises a stern and heavy hand ! 

The Eye that shone like the sun of Spring, 

High overhead, 

As a waning moon now glimmers through 

A lurid brugh — § 

A halo crimson, a circle red, 

The shadow of Age's signet ring. 



262 THE TWO TOWERS. 

The Ear that rang with the laughter of youth, 

And garnered the lessons of wisdom and truth ; 

That treasured the accents of friendship and love, 

And grew spell- bound 

At the magical sound 

Of the song-sorceress of the grove ; 

That gladdened 

At the wedding of music of lute and guitar. 

And maddened 

At the fearful alarm-bell, the tocsin of war ; 

Now strives in vain its door to unlock, 

When words — old friends and old neighbors — 

knock ; 
Strives in vain, though a helping hand 
Be hollowed, and at its elbow stand. 
For Age has gnawed, with the brown tooth of rust, 
The latch, 

The spring, the bolt, the ward, and the catch, 
Filled the keyhole with dust. 
And cast 
The key 

Into the dark sea 
Of the past ! 

The Voice, that defied the tempest's wrath 

With a scoff, 

Now gasps for breath. 

And in whispering slippers shuffles after 

A harsh, dry cough — 

Age's demoniac laughter. 

The Back, Man's proud totemic^ sign, 

That towered erect as a mountain pine, 

Now droops 

And bends and stoops, 

Till, in the brook's 

Still mirror, it looks 

Like the curved scythe 

With which Old Time, like a mower blithe. 

Cuts ever and ever his world-wide swath. 



THE TWO TOWERS. 263 

The brawny Arm and the sinewy Leg 

Assistance beg 

Of each other, 

And give it like brother to brother. 

The leg on its knee rests the feeble hand ; 

And when the legs in turn aid crave 

To walk or stand, 

The hand, of the burden takes the half, 

With a staff — 

The finger of Age that points to the grave ! 

The Heart, deep-rooted in Christian soil, 

That grew like Norway's sturdy pine, 

With arms reaching far and wide 

On every side 

In the happiness, welfare, and life, 

Of cherished children and worshipped wife ; 

Till mankind, weary of sorrow and toil, 

To rest in its shade would calmly recline. 

And point to the top towering high above. 

To index the way to the laud of love ; 

Now, lopped of its limbs, since daughter and son, 

And wife are gone 

To the grave, 

It sways to and fro in the cold world's blast, 

Like a man-of-war's mast 

Battle scarred. 

Blackened, charred. 

Unrigged and unsparred. 

Forsaken and shunned and dreaded by all ; 

For in its fall 

To the parting deck, 

Is wreck. 

And death beneath the wave ! 

Squandered long since are Youth's treasurer 

On tops and toys 

Of sports and joys, 

And rattling baubles of pleasures ; 

And squandered long since the wealth 

Of Manhood's health. 



264 THE TWO TOWERS. 



On crowns of ambition and laurels of fame. 

On ribbons of praise and the scroll of a name, 

On trinkets of vanity, feathers of pride, 

And on hobbies of whim and opinion to ride. 

But what ! can the spendthrift Jew 

Spend all his silver and o;old, 

That Age, the'inquisitor old, 

Cannot get 

A guinea or two from the heretic yet ? 

No. 

Then go, 

And draw one by one the teeth by decay, 

And in each foul socket a hot coal lay ; 

On the thumb put the torturing screw ; 

On the ankle and foot 

Wedge the tight Spanish boot ; 

And break 

The arms and the legs on the wheel of ache ; 

And straighten yon ugly, crooked back 

On the rack ; 

And on each great toe 

Grive a blow 

With agony's crudest weapon, the knout 

Of gout ; 

Then, then must the miser his hoarded pelf 

Of strength and endurance discover, 

And eke out the mangled mass of himself 

Till the very last coin is paid over ! 

If he die, if he do not, all's well — 

A territiou** 'twill be of the torments of hell ! 

But surely the Mind of Man 

Still looms like El Capitan, 

A mountain rock in its firmness grand, 

Though Age before it will stand, 

And point with his heavy hand, 

To the great Yosemite caiion of death 

Yawning a thousand fathoms beneath ! 

Ah, no ! Its mountain base 

By the earthquake of fear's rent asunder ; 

And its face 



THE TWO TOWERS. 265 

Is black with the dark clouds of doubt — 

The lii^htuiiig of hope darting in and out, 

And despair rolling after in thunder ! 

And in the deep canon of death, 

That yawns beneath, 

The magic mirage unrolls the weird 

Panorama of all that on earth is feared. 

Now magnified and distorted by fancy, 

The mind's self-deceiving necromancy. 

Here hells are depicted in every hue, 

And unrolled to the view. 

Where fire and water, earth and air, 

In all their awful forms appear ; 

And even a round 

Of life, for a sinful soul is found, 

Through the hideous forms 

Of toads, and lizards, and worms. — 

The boldest must view it, with bated breath, 

The fearful mirage of the canon of death ! 

Ah, where shall he go now, Man, the mortal? 

What power 

Appeal to, and crave 

Himself to save? 

Or cast e'en a firefly's glimmer of light 

At this midnight hour 

Of the dark and fearful and terrible night, 

That breaks beyond the grave ? 

Before him there stands a feudal tower 

With open portal. 

Low and narrow and small, 

But yet may enter all, 

Who will bend the knee. 

In humility ; 

The head of his helmet uncover ; 

And lower 

The neck for the stroke of a sword ; 

And clasp the hands, without gauntlet or glaive, 

For the chains of a slave ; 

And with heart laid bare, 



266 THE TWO TOWERS. 

Fealty and homage swear 

To the Lord : 

It is the holy Tower of Prayer ! ft 

Here tapestries han<>; from hall to hall, 

Where all ' ' 

The jiood and lovely on earth that has proven, 

By the loom of the happiest vision is woven. 

And what heavens of bliss, in this web, for the 

dead, 
Inwrought in pearls and jiolden thread ! 
Here, angels and bright cherubim ; 
Here, saint singing psalm and hymn ; 
Here, the sea-rover's wild Valhalla joys, 
A midday battle, a midnight carouse ; 
Here, the classic elysiura of Jove ; 
Even God's holy presence, 
A light eternal of life and love ; 
And absorption into the Holy Essence, 
Nirvani ; 
And many 

A fiction — a dream — 
A poet's theme. 

The old Man enters the Tower of Prayer : 

His fear now banished, 

His care now vanished 

Into air ; 

And to and fro through the tapestried halls 

He creeps, 

Till, weary with visions of heaven, he falls, 

And sleeps — 

Sleeps in death in the Tower of Prayer ! 

For Age has followed him even there, 

And before his victim taken a stand. 

And struck the death-blow with a heavy hand ! 



Food for worms ! — 

Back to the elemental forms 

Of Matter, Man goes, as science affirms 

But the life — the soul — 



THE TWO TOWERS. 2G7 

The Force that pervaded the whole, 

Where is it ? or here or there ? 

On earth ? iu air? 

Or bouud with matter to shift and change 

In its infinite range 

Of forms that the chemist can measure and weigh, 

As a farmer can reckon his wheat and his hay? 

Or apart from matter, a force unique, 

This world or a better again to seek, 

And live as a spirit eternally. 

From sin, and sorrow, and death made free? 

But what say the sextons, old and grey, 

As they dig the grave through the frozen clay ? 

Says one — 

*' Aye, Winter and Age are born of one mother. 

Are brother and brother. 

And as Spring follows one, so youth must the 

other. 
In faith, 
After death. 

Again we will both be boys. 
And, perhaps, in the height of our youthful joys, 
And fun, 

Leap over the graves, with nimble foot, 
Where our old bodies moulder and rot. " 
The other, nodding his hoary head — 
" 'Tis said, 
The seed 

In Spring will sprout and grow 
Best, where the old stock, withered and dead, 
Falls over — 
A leafy cover 

To melt away with Winter's snow, 
And cherish, 
And nourish 
Its new-born self, a flower or weed. " ' 

Nought but a fiction — a dream — 

A poet's theme. 

Yet such things fall in the scales of the mind 



268 .THE TWO TOWERS. 

And kick the beam 

To good or evil ; 

Less, by far, 

Can make or mar 

A golden harvest to rustic hind — 

Rain-drop or weevil ! 



* Plutarch, in his comparison between land crea- 
tures and water creatures, says, " Cranes, at their first 
setting out, cast themselves into a triangle with the 
front forward, thereby to cut and pierce the wind that 
bloweth before and about them, to the end that their 
rank, thus arranged and set in order, might not possi- 
bly be broken."— J/orais, Holland's translation, folio, 
London, 1657, p. 787, 

The truth, however, lies in this: The eyes of the 
crane are situated on the sides of the head, so that th.e 
bird cannot see an object directly in Its front; hence, to 
follow its leader, it is obliged to keep a little to one side 
in order to see it. The same is true of the wild-goose of 
the poem, BraiUa Canadensis. 

t Cirsium lanceolatum. 

X See Cowan's Curious History of Insects, pp. 71-2, 
where an account is given of a lawsuit between the 
Commune of St. Julien and a species of weevil which 
continued for more than forty-two years, during the 
Fifteenth century. 

II The gigantic spectre of the Hartz mountains in 
Hanover, and seen at sunrise from the Brocken, the 
loftiest peak of the range, is nothing more than the 
shadow of the observer cast upon the thin vapors then 
floating in the sky. 

I This old word bruph, applied to the hazy circle 
sometimes seen around the disc of the sun and moon, 
and generally considered a presage of change of weath- 
er, has been over-looked by our standard lexicographers. 
It has been derived from the Greek Brochos, a chain 
about the neck, possibly our brooch. Other forms of it 
^xe.hrogha.nd.brough — tlie latter occurring in the old 
poem 77ie Farmer's Ha\ St. 28 : 

"Meg cries she'll wad baith her shoon, 
That we shall hae wet verj' soon, 

And weather rough ; 
For she saw about the moon 
A mickle hrough''' 



A CENTENNIAL COUNTERBLAST. 269 



Another word applied to the lunar halo and not 
found in the dictionaries is burr.— Vide Brande, Jamie- 
«ion,.et. al. The '* lurid brugh " of the poem refers to the 
urcus senilis, or red circle about the ball of the eye of 
aged persons, the result of fatty degeneration of the 
cornea. 

^ Totciuic — characteristic, specific, an adjective from 
iotem, an Indian word for a picture of a bird, turtle, or 
other animal, used by the North American Indians as a 
family, or tribal symbol or designation — a rude kind of 
heraldic coat-of arms, and so termed by early writers. 
*' Each his own ancestral totem, 
Each the symbol of his household."— Ijongfellow. 

The signification of the upright back of Man is elab- 
orated in the first poem in this volume, "The Last of 
the Mammoths." 

** T'e^•7•t7^o?^, another useful word not found in our 
standard dictionaries. Its meaning is apparent from 
the following quotation from Lieber's Eoicyclopcedia 
Americana, sub voce Torture : " The mere threat of tor- 
ture is termed territion, and is distinguished into verbal 
tei-rition, in which the accused is given up to tlie execu- 
tioner, wJio conducts him to the engines of torture, and 
describes, in the most appalling manner possible, the 
sufferings which he may endure, and the real territion 
in which he is actually placed upon the machine, but is 
not subjected to torture." 

ft At the time this poem was written, the writer had 
not made an especial study of the science of symbolism. 
In the subsequent poem, " Chautauqua," the signification 
of the attitudes of prayer is given correctly. 



— 1876 — 

A CENTENNIAL COUNTERBLAST. 



BY A WRETCHED WESTERN POET, IX THE CITY OF 
BROTHERI.V LOVE, JULY -«TH. 1870, ON HIS WAY ( HIC- 
COUGHING ) TO THE STATION-HOUSE. 



After three and a half years' service m the treadmill 
of a newspaper office, involving — «rf Jiawseaw — the 
thousand and one odes ot the day, the brass bands and 
flag displays, the slang of the period, and the genera 



270 A CENTENNIAL COUNTERBLAST. 

conviviality of the Centennial Year of *he RepuVilic : in- 
volving, as it were, by imbibition. 



I say, damn this clatter ! — 
That's what's the matter ( hie ) 

With Hannah ! 
'Nough to make a man cuss — 
This ( hie ) confounded fuss ! 
This ( hie ) ridiculous muss ! — 
Gettin' ( hie ) wuss and wuss ! 
Shoutin' ! 
Spoutin' ! 
Sintiin' hosanna ! 

Wipin' your chin with a flag ( hie ) of 
bandana ! 
Shoot the whole caboodle — 

The 'Merican eagle — the Fourth of 

July — 
The Little Hatchet that couldn't lie — 
John Hancock and ( hie ) Yankee Doodle ! 
Shoot the whole Centennial biz ( hie ) 
From the Big that was to the Little that is ! 

II. 

Bombs bustia' in air ! — 

1 wish I was deef ! — 
An' the rockets' red glare ! — 

Or blind, I'd as lief! — 
An' this sulphurous smell 
Would stifle all (hie) — Well, 
Even the beer 
Tastes confoundedly queer ! 
An' a man cannot touch, 
But he's all over ouch ! 
A man has no sense, 

But it's outraged outright ! — 
No sense ? A ( hie ) suggestion — No cents ! 
Ne'er a red ! 
Broke — dead 1 

Busted higher 'an a kite ! 
Lit out for that Kingdom Come 



A CENTENNIAL COUNTERBLAST. 271 

Where the Rag-baby's eye-teeth are cut 
( hie ) chewin' gum ! 

III. 

And what for ? 

O ( hie ) lor' ! 
Give us room ! give us room ! 
The American Century Plant's in full 

bloom ! 



IV. 



The American Century Plant ! 

I'd like to meet it ! — 
I've seen the Centennial elephant — 

I wonder if he ( hie ) could have eat it 1 



Where is it? — There's room for conjecture ! 
What is it? — That's food for a lecture ! 
Some pumpkins for independence pie ? — 

An' ( hie) sass? 
Or small potatoes for equality ? 

Or beans ( hie ) for gas ? 
Or that buncombe bosh 
The reformer's squash ? 
Or this ( hie ) dead beet? — 
I'd like to see't — 
This wonderful century plant, 
But ( hie ) can't ! 
However, let's have, if you please, 
Some Centennial (hie) peas. 

VI. 

Pull down your vest ! — ( hie ) 

Young man, go west ! — 

And ( hie ) give us a rest ! — 

This whole Centennial fuss 

Isn't worth a ( hie ) Continental cuss ! 

And that's the blizzard. 

From a to izard. 

Of my Centennial ( hie ) blunderbuss I 



CHACTAUQUA. 



— 1876 — 

CHAUTAUQUA. 



A SONG OF SYMBOLISM. 



Involving the elaborate symbolic representations on 
exhibition at the Centennial, in the departments of 
statuary and painting, confirming the writer in the re- 
sults of his study and investigation, and emboldening 
him to give expression to his tlioughts as freely as the 
sculptors and artists of the civilized world had done in 
their works before him. 

A lake — 

Aa fair as only phantasy can make, 

With half-closed eyes, 

At even, 

In the glamour of glowing, cloudy skies — 

In the vision illusive of heaven. 

On this lake, a boat — 

As light as the leaf that is silently borne, 

On the balmy breath 

Of a warm October morn. 

From the tree above to the wave beneath, 

With neither rustle nor ripple to note 

Whether breezes waft or waters float — 

Nay, as light as the boat by poesy wrought 

As ail idle toy in the workshop of thought. 

Afloat, 

On this lake, in this boat, 

A thing, encased in a mottled husk, 

Of silk and cotton and straw and leather, 

In a strange entanglement held together, 

And diff"using an odor of musk ! — 

Fie! 

An eye 

Of the self-same radiant blue Ol. 

That gives infinity its hue ; 

A lip as red as blood can stain. 

When crimson art'ry and purple vein 



CHAUTAUQUA. 273 



Unite in a common mesh, 

In a gauze of semi-transparent flesh ; 

A neck, of the upturning crucible's glow. 

When the molten steel begins to flow : 

As white and as clear, with a dazzled-eye hint 

Of, within it, an exquisite violet tint ; 

A form without a single straight line. 

In a series of arcs that all beauty combine ; 

A motion extending, with varying curve, 

The lines of her form, without tangent or swerve ; 

A being — the wax of humanity's mold — 

Ta be melted by love — to receive — to hold — 

To shape in the pattern impressed in the past, 

And turn out alternates of self with each cast ; 

A woman ! a woman of womanly worth 

As ever made heaven existence on earth. 

And with this woman, one 

Other, 

Neither sire nor son. 

Nor uncle nor brother, 

Nor husband nor friend, 

And yet a man — a man 

To dare and do what only man can. 

And here an end — 

She, bending the bough, a ripe lucious peach ; 

He hungry — the food he most craves within reach. 

It is Maud and I that, in a boat, 
On Lake Chautauqua, are afloat ! 
Together we pull with measured oar ; 
Together we view the receding shore ; 
Together we join our voices in song, 
And merrily sing as we glide along. 



Away ! away ! o'er the waters blue I 
Away ; away ! in our light canoe ! 
When the wave is calm and the sky is clear, 
And the bark that floats between, my dear, 
Has only two oars in it — 



274 CHAUTAUQUA. 



Two oars that feather 
The wave together ! 



Away ! away ! o'er the waters wide ! 
Away ! away ! o'er the billowy tide ! 
When, tho' death is below, there is heaven above, 
And a world at rest between, my love, 
With only two souls in it — 

Two souls that feather 

The wind tosrether ! 



Till our stroke, like a sled<re, 

Has driven 

The keen prow-edii;e 

Of our boat, like a wedge, 

To the splintering heart 

Of the log-like lake — 

Till the lake in twain is riven, 

And gapes in our widening wake ; 

And Maud and I from the world are apart ! 

A motionless speck — 

An indistinct fleck, 

To the eye on the distant shore ; 

Where the evening shadows away into night ; 

Where the casements lengthen to streamers "^ light 

Where the reveling's roar — 

The crash of the music, the dancing, the din — 

Is heard no more, 

Save in the faint note of a lone violin — 

A thread of gossamer sound so thin, 

That sense is in doubt — 

Is it something without, 

Or something within ? 

I sit in the bow, — nay, to sit, I seem ; 
For T am ubiquity's self in my dream ; 
Maud touches the oar with a finger tip, 
And listlessly toys with its dainty drip — 
That touch of the girl 
Transmutes the drops and the wave into pearl. 



CHAUTAUQUA, 275 



She smiles ; u wavelet encircles the oar 

And widens out toward the shadowy shore — 

Till the lake is wreathed from a central isle 

In the mirth sympathetic and play of her smile. 

She lauo;hs; the water-lap under the bow 

Echoes her voice to the depth below ; 

While the mirth-bounding midges bear it on high. 

To the stars that flash from her upturning eye. 

The kke with her touch is pearled ; 

The lake with her smile is whorled ; 

While the depth below and the height above 

Rejoice 

With her voice ; 

The world — the all-inclusive world 

Is intermingled Maud and I in love ! 



The air — so still ! and the wave and the sky 

so dark ! 
Sound and sight 
Are lost in the night 
That envelops the world of love in our bark. 

Closer, Maud, creep ! 

The heart is not hushed in the swelling breast; 

The love-lighted eye has not sunk in the west ' 

Of sleep. 

Then come ! — Interlocked, love, our hearing 

and sight 
Will know not of silence, will know not of night. 

Thou tremblest, love ! Thy breath is warm — 

Nay, hot and fast — 

A feverish, full, and broken blast ! 

Dost fear the calm will break into storm ? 

Hark ! 

A sound 

Gurgles up from the depth profound, 

And startles the sable stillness around ! ' 

And now a shock ! 



276 CHAUTAUQUA. 

And a rising wave that begins to rock 
The listless bark ! 

Nay, calm thy alarms — 

Thou art safe in my arms ! 

Our boat 

Though a light and fragile shell, will float 

Above 

The highest as well as the lowest wave, 

And save 

Us in the trust of love ! 

In all its fury, breaks the storm, 
With tumultuous force and in phrensied form ! 
Till the ear is deaf with the thunder's crash, 
And the eye is blind with the lightning's flash ! — 
Till our bark to the heavens above is tossed — 
Is shivered — is sinking — down, down — and 
is lost ! . 

Nay, lost in a swoon, Maud and I ; 

While the boat 

Keeps afloat, 

And drifts away 

Quietly into a silent bay 

Deep 

In sleep ; 

Where — how long I know not — we lie, 

And recover. — 

The storm is over. 

The shore is at hand. 

And, amid the crash of the revelers' band, 

At midnight, we land. 



Round and round the waltzers go, 
Turning on the tuneful toe, 
Spinning fast or reeling slow. 

In close-clasped gyration ; 
Little eddies of the ball. 
In the whirl-pool of the hall, 



CHAUTAUQUA. 



Ill the mighty vortical 

Of the earth's rotation ! 

With the winding, waltzing world, 
Tops by gayety thumb-twirled, 
Maud and I are wildly whirled 

In the maze around us ; 
Round and round — the lake is dry ! 
Round and round — the storm a lie ! 
Round and round — till Maud and j 

Are as evening found us ! 



The morning is black ; 

The sky is ragged with rack ; 

The air is heavy and hot ; 

A feverish doubt 

Runs in and out, 

And is answered not — 

In a cheek that blanches and burns ; 

In an eye that deadens and dazzles by turns ; 

In a heart that stifles and throbs ; 

In a warmth that gives and a coldness that robs. 

The deck is dull ; the book a block ; 

The song a sigh ; the run a walk ; 

The walk a mope with hasty turn ; 

The look in pity half to spurn ; 

The ring unworn : 

The letter torn ; 

The rose a ragged, bleeding thorn ! — 

A bleeding thorn that bleeds afresh, 

When I draw near ; 

Like murdered flesh 

When the murderer doth appear. 



In the afternoon, 

The hammock hangs like a horned dry-moon, 

And Maud reclines in the crescent lap — 

By a strangely sweet, fortuit|ous hap, 

Blending in one symbol together, 

Woman in love in the trust of fair weather. 



278 CHAUTAUQUA. 

Afar, T dare to speak. 

And with my tongue, my foot keeps pace ; 

Nearer, nearer, till I can trgce ex. 

The tears in great drops' coursing down her 

cheek — 
Till I can look into her eye, 
And with mine ardent gaze, the tear-source dry. 

The heaviness begins to lift ; 
And in the rack there is a rift ; 
The sun pours down a golden flood 
That warms the blood. 
Till it lightly flows, 
And brightly glows. 

We walk 

And talk 

Together. 

I place a feather 

Of fern in her hair ; 

While my tremulous fingers linger there, 

Till the stem is broken. 

But no matter th' inanimate token — 

There's a thicket of fern 

At every turn ! 

The rack is gone ; 

The faintest cloud has flown ; 

The sun descends in a glowing west ; 

The world reclines in enraptured rest. 



It is even. 

The earth is poised in an ambient heaven. 

Every object against the sky 

That listless revery can descry, 

Is the haloed head of a hallowed saint, 

Such as ecstatic limners paint. 

The purple haze 

Comes into being like a mist 

Of amethyst, 



CAHUTAUQUA. 279 



And grows within our silent gaze. 

Till, in one comprehending whole, 

Of love impassioned, sentient soul, 

Our beings dissolve and become a part — 

The beating heart. 

The long-curved lashes of the eyes of Day 
Close th^; world in their !^hadows of gray. 

Is it the darkness that makes me bold ? 
I dare to touch Maud's silken fold ! 
Close to her side I steal ; 
Her warm breath on my cheek I feel ; 
I linger on her lips, while she is pressed 
In rapture to my throbbing breast. 

The rack of the morn without a rift, 

The clouds of the afternoon adrift, 

The glamour, the halo, the haze, the shade, 

In a fathomless grave together are laid — 

The Past has no ghost to rise and affright 

The wondrous might 

Of love encased in the black mail of night ! 

The boat awaits — the boat ! the boat 1 
That in the storm kept bravely afloat ! 
That beat on the heaving billow's breast ! 
That topped the highest watery crest ! 
Ha ! danger must take another form 
To deter fond love than a passionate storm ! 
Thou hast no fear ? Then come, Maud, come, 
And the lake forever shall be our home ! 

Together we row — Maud and I — in the boat ; 
On the stormy lake again we're afloat ! 



A snail, in his own individual shell, 

In the torture of self writhed and whorled, 
Hangs out of his window above a deep well, 

To take a wide view of the world. 



280 CHAUTAUQUA. 

Protruding a finger-like sensitive socket, 
With cautious contemplative move, 

He draws out a glass from the out-turning pocket, 
And brings it to bear upon — love ! 

Love, deep in the circumscribed world of a well, 

In the form of a petal like boat. 
Afloat on the crest of the surface-drip's swell. 

And in it, two fire-flies afloat ! 

Enraptured, the snail shuts his telescope-eye. 
And sets out Parnassus to climb ; 

The surface is slippy, the summit is high. 

But he sticks as he crawls up — in slime ! 



Yea ; it is true, 

The lake, the boat, and Maud and I 

Are but the figments ol a lie ; 

The storm, the swoon, the dainty diction 

Of the erotic muse of fiction ; 

And ragged the rounds 

Of rhythmic sounds 

That compass the sensuous dreamer's bounds; 

Yet, give the poor devil his due ! 

The poet must writhe in his shell, 

Aud look in a well, 

And see there earth, heaven, and hell — 

Yea, hopper humanity's infinite selves 

To the tiniest elves 

Begot 

Of thought — 

The fire-flies in the snail's well view, 

Or Maud and I in^e lake canoe. "^ 



It is an innate habit of the Thought 

To mirror the great world according to 

The modes in which the great world is expressed 

In halves that are as nothing when alone. 

But when united are all powerful, 

Omnipotent in reproductive might, 



CHAUrAUQUA. 281 



Evolving self into infinity — 

In halves, or male or female — man and woman 

In highest form, down to the lowest hint — 

The push and pull of every mode of force — 

The in and out of every form of matter 

That vortices in individuality. 

And so as Man is halved in man and woman, 

Each individual is halved aj^ain — 

Divided thro' and thro' from brain to heart — 

Into a man and woman brain and heart. 

So there are male and female modes of thought, — 
Philosophy and Poesy, in point. 

The man, Philosophy, swells, from the one 

Unto the many, with expanding arms; 

The woman, Poesy, shrinks from the many. 

And, with enfolding arms, clasps all in one. 

Philosophy resolves the milky way 

Into a myriad of revolving worlds; 

While Poesy, dissolves the light of all 

Into the lustre of a single star — 

Into the soft light of a woman's eye. 

Philosophy creates a quadruped. 

From out the billion bipeds of the earth, 

And calls the monster Man — eternal Man ; 

While Poesy reduces all to two, 

A man and woman, who are born to die. 

And who, between the cradle and the grave, 

Think in one soul the thoughts that millions think, 

Feel in one heart the throbs that millions feel, 

And people worlds in one — Storm on the Lake. 

And man and woman like, these modes of thought 

May live to adult life and hoary age 

And be abortive one without the other — 

Each unproductive, in their work apart, 

Of aught that lives a separate existence. 

Philosophy, a bachelor, shoots up 

Divergent rockets in the face of heaven, 

That point with fiery finger to the stars, 

Then burst in vain self praise and fall as sticks ; 



282 CHAUTAUQUA, 



While Poesy, a spinster, knits a sock 

That ravels at the top as fast as she 

Can draw the threads together at the toe. 

But joined as man and wife, Philosophy 

And Poesy bring forth a living being, 

Wherein the aspiration of the sire, 

Beyond the bourn of comprehension, 

Is blended with the fond love of the mother^ 

As finite as an individual — 

A nameless being to the wise and good ; 

An idol, in a thousand different forms, 

Under as many names and signs, to those 

Who comprehend with only eye and ear. 

Here, reader, pause. Thou art Philosophy. 

Look out with rhy accustomed sight, that dims 

Not in the dark'ning distance of the past, 

And see the head-width of the wedge of thought. 

That Poesy has narrowed to a point 

Within the storm-tossed boat on Lake Chautauqua. 

Dost see not in remotest, darkest Ind, 

The mystic argha, in whose ovoid depth 

The stream of life hath an exhaustless fount? 

Dost see not, in the mist of Hebrew myth, 

This self-same argha in the mystic ARK, 

That, while the world's engulfed in death. 

Bears in its womb the fruitful halves of life? 

Dost see not in the blue of G-recian past. 

This same boat ARGOS, filled with arm^d men, 

Who sail away to Colchian land, and steal 

The golden fleece of immortality ? 

Dost see not in the glamour of to-day 

The symbol of the argha in the ARCH, 

Through which in triumph march ^^^ hosts of men 

Flushed with the glow of vital victory ; 

And under which, in its grand form, the dome, 

The millions kneel in hope of life eternal ? 

Or wise Philosophy, dost see not in 

The very oar that trembles in Maud's hand — 

The oar propelling the light curvM boat — 

The active ar that speaks the might of man 



CHAUTAUQUA, 283 



lu union with the passive ark of woman ? 
The ARROW winging f'roiu the curved bow 
Of Cupid's self, the very god of love? 
The point that ears the mellow mould 
And makes of barrenness a teeming earth ? 
The ARM of man, that in the war of life, 
Strikes down the hosts of death opposing him ? 
The ART of man comprising all his work ? 
The ARDOR of consuming passion ? — Yea, 
An ARIAN must thou be, and freely breathe 
The AIR of mystic lore, Philosophy, 
To mate with Lake Chautauqua's Poesy ! 
Within the very words of " Maud " and '* I, '■ 
Religion from infinity has lived, 
And to infinity will live — as long 
As man and woman give to thought their sex. 
Maternity wombs in the sound of '-M," 
From "mother" to the holy name of "Mary"; 
Paternity's expressed for aye in " I, " 
From "John" and "Jack" to "Jesus" and 
" Jehovah " ! 



I come from phantasy far, far away, 
To fact at hand. 

Maud kneels, and folds her hands 
Together in the symbol of herself, 
Before her baby in the cradle lapped, 
And prays unto the Infant in the arms 
Of her that bare Him — Him the finite god 
Of woman thought and love concentrated — 
The Saviour of mankind a weakling babe. 
Within the comprehension of a child ! 
In sacred sympathy with her, t rise, 
Uphold my right hand tow'rd the farthest sky, 
And silently extend her words unto 
The infinite Incomprehensible, 
Beyond the wide reach of man's aspiration ! 

blessed woman thought, sweet Poesy ! 
Without thee there had been no Infant Christ ! 
Ubiquity's too vague to be a god ! 



284 NIAGARA. 



— 1876 — 

iMAGARA. 

Die, like a dog 

With a curse-pointed kick in a dyke ? 
Die, like a hog, 

When the pork-market tyrant cries. Strike? 
Die like a leper with loathsome disease — 
A sewer of quackery — carrion of fees ? 
Die of old age with a shudder and chill, 
'Mid weeping relations disputing my will ? 
Die like the millions of mortals that drag o'er a 
Life of cold commonplace? Never! Niagara! 

I that have breathed with the lungs of a fire ; 
I that have loved with insatiate desire — 
Clasped with the strong arms of sensuous might — 
Whirled in the wild waltz of maddened delight — 
Whirled in the reeling of rapture to stagger — a 
Vortex suspended in passion's Niagara ! 

1 that have reveled in thrills, from a kiss 
To the wallow of lust in a surfeit of bliss ! 
Till, bloated, besotted, and rotten with sin, 
The world is as burnt out without as within 1 — 
Save thee, Death, in a bullet — a dagger — a 
Leap in the flood of the mighty Niagara ! 

Save thee, Niagara ! Torrent of Death ! 
If thou canst extinguish this passion-fired breath ! 
KoU up resistless thy might in one flood 1 
Seethe in thy rapids like love-boiling blood ! 
Quiver an instant in brink-edge orgasm ! 
Plunge ! and go down with me into the chasm — 
Into the thunder, the mist-cloud, and flag-array 
Stolen from heaven, thou hell of Niagara ! 

Ha ! how thou hugg'st me in love's last embrace, 
Bared breast to breast, and hot face to face ! 
Over the breakers we hurriedly ride — 
Through the swift rapids ecstatic we glide — 



THE FIDDLER OF TIME. 285 

Kiss me — oh, kiss oie while yet there is breath ! 
Down, dowQ. together we go, love, to death ! — 
Into the black depth, and into the blacker Aye ! — 
Laura-limbed, Laura-lipped, Laura-Niagara ! 



— 1877 — 

THE FIDDLER OF TIME. 



It was au uld fiddler, as bare as his bow, 
III rhe arm and the time-beating leg, 

And as notched as his fiddle about the middle, 
As he sate upon a keg, — 

And scraped and straddled *"'* seesawed *"'* scored, 

In an everchanging tune, 
Now fast, now slow, now high, now low, 

The while a crash, syne a croon. 

And as fast as the hairs of his bow wore out, 
They grew in his long white beard ; 

While his strings were a part ''^ ^''^ throbbing heart 
That in his music was heard — 

That in his music was heard in the beat 

Of his bare and bony leg — 
Ha ! a tiddler was he as none other could be 

But Time on the Earth as a keg. 

Aye, kee squeaky -squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, 
Went the fiddle and bow of Time, 

On the keg of the Earth in the mansion of 3Iirthj 
On the rocky ridge of Rhyme. 

When lo ! there appeared a succession of forms 

In the merry old fiddler's sight, 
Reviewing the Past from the first to the last 

As they waltzed into the light — 

Of the wick that sang and danced as it burned, 

Above the fiddler's skull, 
Till behold ! it shone like a golden sun 

Upon the moon at full ! 



286 THE FIDDLER OF TIME. 

Ha ! this is the Maiden of Matter, I wis, 

This shapeless, graceless mass. 
In a gown of gray — a gown of clay 

DiflFused like a dusk throughout space. 

And oho ! this partner that clasps her waist, 

And whirls her in his course, 
Till she seems to roll like a flag round a pole, — 

This dashing fellow is Force ! 

Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, 
Round and round from left to right. 

Till lo ! they are whirled into a World 
In the merry old fiddler's sight ! 

The world of Matter and Force in mask — 
In the guise of Man and Woman ! 

The world of naught to feeling and thought, 
Until it evolves the Human ! 

The world without the fiddler's skull. 
And the world within, in thought. 

That begets in truth, but when, forsooth, 
It begets as Man is begot.* 

When lo 1 as the world of Matter and Force, 

Revolved as a waltzing ball. 
In the light of the sun and the mirroring moon 

That illumined the fiddler's hall — 

There came and went another pair 

In the merry old fiddler's sight — 

Who but Dandy Day, in the rainbow's array, 

Whirling round with the Negress of Night — 

With the Negress of Night, in her gown of gauze, 

Of woven silence and jet. 
With a crown on her brow, and a silver bow 

In a golden galaxy set. 

Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, 

Round and round in the waltz they go, 

Now there, now here, until a Year 
Is turned on their tuneful toe. 



THE FIDDLER OF TIME. 287 



Wheu oho ! ha ! ha ! What a jolly pair 

Is this that comes into sight ? 
The lady in green is Summer, I ween, 

And the gentleman, Winter, in white. 

And was ever there seen such a gown of green, 

As the Lady of Summer wore, 
When with golden hair and faultlessly fair, 

She appeared on the fiddler's floor? 

And in what a grim guise of snow and ice, 
Was the blustering Winter dressed ! 

While an icicle froze to the point of his nose 
And hung down to his breast ! 

Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, 

Round and round go the Grreen and White, 

Till another pair in their turn appear 
In the merry old fiddler's sight. 

Ho ! Will o' the Wind, on dainty toe, 

A filmy, fairy form. 
Till, gathering force as as he whirls in his course, 

He sweeps away a Storm ! 

While his partner, behold, the Maid of the Mist, 

In a fleecy gray gown and hood. 
Till, whirling about to a Water-spout, 

She bursts into a Flood ! 

Till oho ! ha ! ha ! the fiddler plays 

As never he played before. 
While the lightnings flash and the thunders crash. 

And the torrent redoubles its roar I 

Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, 
Round and round in majestic might, 

Till another pair in their turn appear 
In the merry old fiddler's sight. 

Ha ! Will o' the Wisp, thou wandering sprite, 
Dancing hither, and higher and higher, 

Till, swelling beneath a smoky wreath, 
He rages a furious Fire ! 



288 THE FIDDLER OF TIME. 

And '^^ Njmph of *^' Wood '»""" he ^"^^^ '° ""^ arms, 

As round and round he turns, 
Who is she in the sash of the hue of ash, 

But the Forest and all that burns ! 

Till oho ! ha ! ha ! the wild, wild waltz 
That makes the old fiddler shake — 

A A^oleano of fire rising higher and higher, 
In the arms of a whirling Earthquake ! 

Kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee. 

Round and round in majestic might, 
Till another pair in turn appear 

In the merry old fiddler's sight. 

Ah, this is the Lady of Life, T ween, 

In the morn of a summer's day, 
The beauty and mirth of heaven and earth 

Involved in a clod of clay ! 

Her hair, the golden gleam of the dawn, 

Her eye, the blue above, 
Her form, the last in the living mould cast, 

Her heart, the heaven of Love ! 

And this is Death, this ghastly shade. 

This greedy, grinning ghoul, 
From out the gloom of a gaping tomb 

Where all is forbidding and foul. 

And he would waltz with the Lady of Life, 

This loathsome leper of old ; 
But before he placed his arm round her waist, 

The fiddler bade him hold. 

Aye, the fiddler of Time, with a quivering bow. 

And a thrill suspended leg. 
With gasping breath, commanded Death 

To take his fiddle and keg. 

When away with a hop and a skip and a jump, 

He sped to the Lady's side, 
And with circling arms enfolded the charms 

Of heaven and earth in his bride. 



THE FIJ)DLER OF TIME. 289 

And round and round in a giddy waltz, 
Went the Lady of Life and Time, — 

Round *'^« keg °^ the' Earth '"^ the mansion "^ Mirth, 
On the rocky ridge of Rhyme. 

While, kee-squeaky-squawky-tweedle-dee-dee, 
Went the fiddle and bow of Death, 

Till Time turned about without marking a note , 
And the Lady gasped for breath, — 

And fell on the floor in a silent swoon, — 

When Death dropped the fiddle and bow, 

And, while Time ^'^"^ aghast *■* the maze °*' the Past, 
Entombed the Lady in woe. 

When behold ! the wick was a ghastly hue, 

Where all was glitter and glare, 
And the maker of Mirth on the keg of the Earth, 

Sate in silence and despair. 

How long — how many long ages he sate. 

No human tongue can tell ; 
For the time-beating leg on the terrene keg 

Is still while the heart is in hell.f 

He sate until — it happened so. 

The best of reasons why — 
Philosophy came to study the flame 

That cast its strange hue in his eye. 

When stumbling upon the fiddle and bow, 

Of the sad old fiddler of Time, 
The strings went twing-twang — and Melody rang. 

Once more on the ridge of Rhyme I 

When the sad old fiddler awoke from his woe, 

And took up his fiddle and bow, 
And began to play — from grave to gay — 

When the wick began to glow. 

And behold ! the Philosopher turned him about 

In the whirl of a merry dance. 
With a partner *•"** came with the glow "'the flame, 

On an errand for old Dame Chance — 



290 THE FIDDLER OF TIME. 



^weet Poesy ! Ah, what a winsome wench, 

In the fiddler's staring eye, 
As she whirled and whirled into a new world 

In the arras of Philosophy ! 

Kee-squeaky-squa wky- tweedle-dee dee, 
Goes the fiddle and bow of Time, 

On the keg of the Earth in the mansion of Mirth, 
On the rocky ridge of Rhyme. 

And around go the twain in a wild, wild waltz, 

While the fiddler stares aghast, 
As anon they assume in the gloom of the tomb 

The form of the buried Past — 

Of the Lady of Life in the arms of — Himself! 

When, whirlins: with bated breath, 
He beheld her fall in the reeling hall. 

When he danced to the fiddling of Death ! 



* That is, the brain thinks accurately and arrives at 
such conclusions as may be deemed the truth, only 
when it follows the formulas of thought as they exist on 
tlie outside of the organism — in the sequence of events 
in nature, the alternation of light and shade, summer 
and winter, life and death, the growths of planet and 
j)lant — or, as in the poem, as Man is begot. Further, a 
man being the sum of the accumulated impressions of 
Ills environment and that of his ancestors for ages, he 
thinks correctly only when he thinks in accordance 
with his organization — his being as a whole. And here 
1 may say, too, that two persons or two peoples, with 
approximately the same organizations will arrive at ap- 
proximately the same mental results — in philosophy 
poetry, art, and science — as they do in physical appear- 
ance. The brain in the exercise of its function of 
t bought is no more without the organism than the arm 
in casting a stone. 

t This idea has been expressed in a variety of words 
in preceding pages : in " The Slave of the Lamp " — 
But what are Time and Tide to him. 

That lies in the depth of hell ; 
and in " The Jester of Old King Coal "— 

Where years ago — but as yesterday, 

To the woe that notes not time. 



THE LAST MAN. 21)1 



— 187S — 

THE LAST MAN, 



He stands upon an arc of the round earth 
Revolving'in a triple whirl through space ; 
His back, a line directing downward to 
The centre of the earth — the Finite Point ; 
And upward to the Infinite — the Naught, 
Until, within the triple whirl of the 
Revolving earth, it is involved in it, 
And at its centre finite made, Henceforth 
To whirl, involving and evolving, till 
It winds into the thought of 

The Last Man. 

His eyes with the horizon form a blade, 
That, whirling wheresoever may the world, 
Bisects the Finite from the Infinite — 
The part from an hypothecated whole; 
As it, as well, bisects himself in twain, 
The part below the eyes from that above, 
The mortal man from 

An immortal Soul. 

Within the concave of his skull, above 
The line of the horizon and his eyes — 
The counterpart organic of the dome 
Dividing the in-known from the unknown, — 
Aye, what is the self-comprehensible 
Within his skull, but the organic form 
Of a self-comprehensible without — 
Within the greater skull — of whom ? 

Of God ! 

Whence came he ? From and out the Infinite. 
But how ? By the involving of the Infinite 
Within the whirl of the revolving earth, 
Until, made finite at its central point, 
A newborn eddy set out in its course. 



292 THE LAST MAN. 



Involving and evolving as it turned, 
Until, above the line of the horizon, 
Behold ! he stands revealed unto himself 
The Finite Son — of whom ? 

The Infinite ; 
With an immortal soul, the Son of Go(> ! 



But when was be begat? There is no Time 
Between the Finite and the Infinite. 
In the relationship between the Son 
Of God and God, he Is — 

And there an end. 
The soul is as eternal as its God. 



But, mark, between him and the finite earth. 

And other and the myriad forms involved 

In individuality unto 

His comprehension, there is Time — a Past 

In which there are relationships 

Of first and last — of sequence — Birth anc 

Death, 
As eddy after eddy occupies 
A certain space and time in revolution. 
The First Birth was the centre of the Earth ; 
The Last Birth is the finite first whirl still 
Involving and evolving outward from 
Its starting point — 

It is the Thought that gleams 
Along the blade of the horizon and his vision, 
That, as the earth goes round and round, bisects 
The finite Past from out the Infinite — 
The Future — God 1 — 

The Heav'n of The Last Man ! • 



The Thought of The Last Man a Thought of 

Heaven ! 
The farthest evolution from the centre, 
The nearest evolution unto God — 



THE LAST MAN. 293 

The finite soul of the Last Man, 

A Soul 
Evolving with existence into God ! 

His brothers aggregate the wedge of Life 

That heads with him, the highest type of Man, 

And points at the horizon in the whirl 

That simulates the centre of the earth ; 

Or heads within him as a whole, and points 

At a cell-centre whirling in his blood ; 

Or heads within him as he stands, the Last, 

And points, back in the Past, at the First Man — 

The first relationship of Force and Matter 

Involved in individuality 

By 'eddying within the stream of space — 

The first-born son of God — 

Now, the Last Man. 

He is the sum organic of the World. 
His beating heart, the rhythm recurring of 
The earth in its compounded revolution. 
What has been felt, within the wedge of life 
That heads in him, he feels — and more : that 

which 
Is severed from the Infinite by the 
Revolving blade of his far-reaching scythe t— 
The line of the horizon and his eyes — 
And whirled into the vortex of his Passion ; 
And so, what has been thought within the Past, 
He thinks — and more ; as round and round the 

earth 
Goes in its triple whirl, and the long blade 
Carves out the Finite from the Infinite 
With an extending point, 

In his abstraction. 

Ho ! ho ! what thrills of bliss he feels, unfelt 

Before by any other living thing, 

And never felt again until a form 

Attains the point of growth which he has passed ! 

And what bright visions of involving Heaven, 



294 



THE LAST MAN. 



Unseen, before the sweeping scythe of sight 
Has cut them from the brain of Grod in swaths, 
And mowed them in the skull of 

The Last Man ! 

Aye, the Last Man — Behold the monarch of 

The whirling worlds innumerable that 

Have yet revolved within his recognition ! 

Erect upon an arc of the round earth 

Revolving in a triple whirl through space — 

His eyes with the horizon on a line — 

The finger of the dial on the clock 

That ticks within the heart-beat in his breast, 

And strikes — as strike it will, whene'er the maw 

Of the revolving earth will be unfilled 

Within a desert of diluted space — 

When, dying both of inanition. Earth 

And the Last Man, their decomposing dust 

Will be devoured by other orbs unknown. 

Then will the clock have struck the hour of Doom, 

And into naught have vanished the Last Man ! — 

A recollection in 

The Mind of God. 
Unto himself no longer the Last Man, 
But lo ! the thought of 

The Eternal God ! 




INDEX, 



INDEX. 



Abel 46, 123 

Abele 200 

Abortive 281 

Abstract 2!), 41 

Abstraction 293 

Abyss 21 . 

Acer rubrum 236 

Ache 261 

Admired, the 242-3 

.E^lalitis vociferus 206 

After-damp 221 

After-sight 122 

Age 19, 26, 37, 66, 140, 2-57, 281 

Aim 2:33 

Air 265. 283 

Air-breath'g vertebrates 212 

Air-girdled globe 35 

Alarms 276 

Alder 122, 212 

Algse 228-31 

Aliquippa, Q,neen 30 

Alleglieiiy City 193, 22.5 

mountains 20-7, 137, 
233 

river 15, 17, 82 
Alliance Furnace 102-4 
Alt«r, Dr. Da^-ld 226 
Altoona 160 
Ambient heaven 278 
Ambition 264 
Amethyst 278 
Anemone nemorosa 169 
Angel 266 
Anguish 108 
Animalculte 256-7 
Ankeny, Johnny 203 
Anobium pertinax 224 
Antipodal types 11 
Anvil, Voice of 2.50 
Apes 214 

Apis communis 213 
Apparition of thought 12 
Apple 37 
Ar 282 

Arc of the earth 291 
Arch 282 
Archer 261 
Ardor 283 
Argha 282 
Argos 282 
Arian 283 
Ark 282 
Arm 51, 263, 283 
Armstrong, Col. John 53-51 
Arrow 21, 283 
Arrow-points, stone 16 
Art 242-3, 283 
Artery 272 
Askance 23 



Aster 232 
Astronomical 245 

Attention 242 
At Twelve O Clock 255 
Autumn 76, 213, 2.51 
Autumn leaves 06, 76, 138, 

139 
Aye 285 

Baby 71, 92, 205, 283 

Bachelor 281 

Back 11, 262 

Bag-pipes 56, 62-4 

Baird, Spencer F. 211 

Bald Bagle 70-72 

Bancroft, George, 23 

Banjo 191, 226 

Bar 37 

Barb 14 

Bastard 163 

Bat 101, 141, 202, 239 

Batteau 26 

Battle 41, 266 

Bayonet 49, .56 

Bandana 270 

Bear 10, 28. 40 

Beard 18. 26, 166, 285 

Beating of the heart 293 

Beauty 146, 241, 273, 288 

Beautiful River 10, 25, 60 

Beaver River 92 

Bee 213, 260 

Beech 10 

Beer 270 

Belisarius 109 

Bell 63, 187. 209. 246, 261, 199 

Bell, book, and caudle 205 

Bell, On a Ringing 246 

Bellamy, George Anne 43 

Beloved, the 242-3 

Berkley, John 113-27 

Berries 21 

Bessemer Steel .38-39 

Bigot, M. 31 

Biped 281 

Birch-bark 21 

Bird of Bouqnet 64-65 

Bird's-nest 192 

Birth 292 

Black-damp 224 

Black Hawk 19 

Blackguard 244 

Blacksmith 250 

Blast-furnace 103 

Blairsville 193 

Blind and Seeing 14 

Bliss 33, 24, 293 

Blizzard 271 

Blood, RiYer of 9-16 



f98 



INDEX. 



B1(XkI 12, 15, 18, 2\ a5. 37. -50, 

fil, 71. 75-, 92, 9t, 101, 107, 

189, 1.58, 184', 198, 2:^1, 2-35^ 

233, 210, 272, 284 
Blood iilobule 293 
Blue 272 

Blunderbuss 271 
Blush 23, 117, 237 
Boat 272 
Bombs 270 
Bones 191 
Book -worm 221 
Hoshes 103 
Bouquet, Bird or 61-65 

Col. Henry 16, 27, 50, 

62-6 
Boy 71 

Bracken ridge, H. H. 231 
Braddock, Gen. Edward l^, 

27. 34, 3'j-47. 56 
Braddock'8 Field 36-42 
Bra idock, G-rave of 43 
Braddock's Gold, Mythi of 

44-47 
Bradstreet, Col. 61 
Brady, Samuel 13S-9 
Brain 294,11, 19,55, 3.J 151, 

19S 
Brake 56" 
Bramble 258 
Branta Canadensis 268 
Breakers 284 
Breast 284 

Breeclies, Leatlier iH> 
liride 247, 288 
Bridge 38 

Brief von Gott 202 
Brigland, James 73' 
Brigs 127 

Brison, James 102 
Bradford 2*3 
Rroadhead, Get>. 139 
Brock en Spectre 261, 268 
Brocklesby, John 52 
Brother 19, 41, 121, 293,267 
Brook 2.58 - 
Br ugh 261 
Bullet 40,284 
Buncombe 271 
Bushy Run, battle of 62-61 
Burr 268 
Butcher 173-6 

Butterfield, C. W. 93, 98, 100 
Buttonwood 10, 198, 200 
Button^vood, Spectre of 

197-200 
Byron, liord 246 

Caboodle 270 
C'ain 46, 93, 123 
Calamiles 219 
Calm 275 

Cambria county 137 
Campbell 63 

Canal, Pennsylvania 161, 
193, 251, 273 



Oanj'on 265 

Capillaries 272 

Captives 54 

Carboniferous age 212. 

Care 63, 266 

<'ards277 

Carnage 107 

Carou-e 266 

Carrier-dove 25S 

Casement 274 

Cassin, .John 21 li 

Cat 40. 201. 208 

Cat- bird 212 

Catfish 90 

Caul 127-37 

Cave 140 

Celei"on. Louis 26- 

Cell-centre 293 

Centennial 269 

Ce-ntury piant 271 

Cerebration 290 

Chalcedony 16, 20 

ChaiMje 41, 146, 192, 289 

Chaos 201 

Chapman. Tlios. J. 160 

Character, Her 248 

Charm 202 

Ctiautauqua 272 

Cheat River 70 

Cheek 163, 106, 277 

Cheese-box 40 

Chemist 267 

Chert 16. 

Cherubim 266 

Chesterfield, Lord 55 

Chestnut Ridge 20, 164, 172, 

233, 200 
Choke-damp 224 
Chicken 52, 209 
Chicken-roost 191 
Child 261, 161 
Children 26S 
Chime 261 
Chin 163, 141 
Chinese 140 
Christ, Jesus 138, 185, 120, 

163, 283 
Christmas 210 
Cincinnati 193 
Cirsium lanceolatum 26S 
Clark, Gen. 89 
Clark. Lady 193 
Clay 2.5, 288 
Clay, Henry 136, 
Claytonia Virginica 169, 192 
Clerk, Commissioners' 172 
Cloud 265, 257, 15 
Clock 183, 294 
Coal 228 
Coal, Jester of Old Kins 

212 
Coal-miner 39 
Coat of mail 279 
Cob 170 

Coffee-mill crusher 38 
Colchian land 282 



NDEX. 



im' 



Comedy 194 
■i omet ^27 

Comniission'ei's 173-19'i 
•rompass 258, ^61 
'( oncret« 20, 41 
<uneinaugh 22, 5.% iQn, li)7, 

Colli uni «ia«ii latum 2ci2 
( oil noil y, Dr. Jolwi 78-8() 
Conscience 160 
■^'ontinental cvuss -l.'TJ 
(ontreeoeur 28 
Conundrum 194 
Converter 39 
Convict, Irl»li 67 
i'ooper, xViajor 111 
€'opper 235 

< opperhead 28 

xt'ork, King, and Jtiux 

Cro»v 19:i-«) 
4'orn-bread 72 
Corpse 72, 259 
■IJoronach 259 
C'osmoss 201 
<otlon 272 
Cough 262 
•Coulon-Viili-ers S<< 
•Counterblast 258 
low 174-,205 
<.'radle 281, 28S 
Craig, Margaret C. 59 
•I'raig, Nevill-e H, 60, 62, ^6 
(.'ranes 268 

Crawford, Sarali f)3-101 
craw lord, William 73, 74, 

83-101 
Creed, Tlie Redman's 19- 

20 
Oreigh, Dr. A. 18. 82 
Cressap, Col. Michael 82 
Ci ime, 140, 145, 144, 86 
Crimson 272 

< ;rocodile-frogs 219 
CroU 219 

Crow 10,40,46,225-6 
Crotv, James 192 
Cross 138 
Crucible 273 
Cunningham 102 
<;url 146 

Dagger '^4 

Dancing 274 

Darkness 14, 279 

Dart 24 

Datura stramonium 202 

Daughter 66, 161, 239 

Day 108,261.286 

Day, Sherman 113,139 

Dead beat 271 

Death 15, 89, 199, 213, 223, 240 

243, 255-7, 2&5-7, 288. 284 
Death-whoop 71, 108, 139 
Decision 233 
Deer 10, 158 
Defeat 107 



Ivelawares 80, 94 
Delight 131, 213 
Delirium tremens 111 
Dell, Moll 201-2 
Dell, Sen tinsel 47-53 
Demon J^over, Tlie 239-46 
Descent 198 
Desert of s.pace 294 
Despair 14, 81, KM, 109, 145. 

148, 248, 26.5, 289 
Destiny 12 

Devil 33, 79. 97, 189, 261 
Devotion 242 
Dew 56, 236 
Diabetes UO 
Diamond 235 
Dimple 141, 16;] 
l)inwiddi€. Gov. 27, 34 
Disease 28« 
Discord 255 

Dissolution , odor of 209, 211 
Diviner's rod 203 
Doctors 221 

Dog. 102-4. 1 10- 13, 206, 284 
Dog-sun J.07 
Dome 282 
Doom 16, 294 
Double sun 107 
Doubt ':.m, 277 
Dragons 219 
Drake, E. L. 228 
Dream 18, 166, 249, 252, 26« 
Dredge 15 
Drudge 48 
Drug 56 
Drum 187. 260 
Drunkenness 31, 206 
Dry Ridge 20 
Duncuii, David 102 
Dncking-stool, Tlic 82-84 
Dunbar the Tardy 43 
Duglison, Dr. Robley 136 
Dun more, Earl of 78. 80, 81 
Dunmore, Port 7!^-79 
Dun m ore's War 81 
Daprey 23-27 

Dnquesne, Fort 31-4, 57, 59 
Du Quesne, Marquis 31-4 
Dust 294 

Eagle 245, 270 
Ear (verb) 283 
Ear ( noun ) 30, 63, 25.5, 262, 

282 
Earth 19, 30, 218, 243, 26;'), 283, ' 

285, 288 
Earthquake 264, 288 
East 11 

Eaton, S. J. M. 59 
Echo 43 

Economy 139-40 
Eddy 291-4. 276 
Edgar Thomson Steel 

Works 37 
El Capitan 264 
Elephant 271 



300 



INDEX. 



Elizabeth town 127 

JElliot, Capt. Wm. 110 

Elysium 266 

England 29, M, 86-7, 212 

Environment 61, 290 

Eonids 243 

Epigram 238, 240 

Epilepsy 183 

Epitaph 240 

Error 41 

Erdspiegel 202 

Estaing, Compte d' 31 

Evans, 111 

Evening 237, 278 

Evil 79, 87, 94, 189, 261 

Evolution 243,290-4 

Excise Law 113-27 

Existence 292 

Eye 13, 30. 45, 63, 66, 100, 142, 
146, 166, 179, 181, 191. 197, 
227, 235-7, 255, 261, 272. 277, 
281-2 

Eye-ball 18 

^yeand Iinaglnatiou 238 

Eye- lashes 279 

Eye-teeth 271 

ff'ace 28-4 

Faith 56 

False 248 

Fame 5.5. 264 

Fancy 198, 265 

Fanny's Wood 251 

Fate 41, 108, 247 

Father 19. 44, 71, 92, 121, 161 

Fawcett, Thomas 40, 12 

Fawn 25 

Fay 261 

Fayette county 140, 141 

Fealty 266 

Fear 264, 266 

February e3 

Felspar 21 

Fen 22, 219 

Fern 219, 278 

Feudal tower 265 

Fiber zibethicus 209 

Fiddler of Time 2S5 

Fiends 123, 260 

Fiddlers 109, 213 

Fife 187, 260 

Findley, Wm. 105 

Finger 263 

Finite 291-4 

Fire 11, 13, 16, 202. 259, 265. 

284, 287 
Fire- bird 167 
Fire-damp 221 
Firefly 265, 280 
Fire in Pittsburgh 228 
Fire, St. Elmo's 52 
Fir tree 9 
Fist 292 
Flag 52 

Flaget, Father 137 
Flesh 273 



Flesh-fly 46 

Flint 16, 241 

Flood 287 

Flush 2:^7 

Fob 49 

Fool 214 

Foot 224 

Foot-page 32 

Forbes, Gen. .Tohn 16,27,5^). 

57, 62 
Force and Matter 13, 266. 

281. 286, 291-4 
Ford 37 

Foreman, Charles 85 
Fore-sight 122 
Forest 9, 27. 37, 76, 288 
Form of beauty 273 
Fort captured 62 
Fort Cumberland 43 
Fort Dunmore 76, 78-9 
Fort Duqitesne ;'l-4, 57. 59, 

129 
Fort Duqnesne, I<egend 

of 47-53 
Lort La Fayette 110 
Fort Ligonier 58 
Fort Machault 27, 59 
Fort Necessity 36 
Fort Niagara 59 
Fort Pitt 5.5, 59 
Fossils 9-17 
Foster, Steplieii €. !9:>. 

225 6 
Foundry 273 

Fourth of July Alterna- 
tive 245 
Fox, tlie Ominous 90- 1 
Fox 1.58 

France, LUy of 2:^*7 
France 127 
Freeport 193, 226 
French war, the 87 
French in America. 23-27, 

29 31-34 
Frick, H. Clay 233 
Friction 260 
Friedenstadt 92 
Friendship 262 
Frog 220 
Frost 76 
Fucus 228-31 
Fun 267 
Fungus 217 
Furnace 103-4 
Fur-trade 34 
Future 11. 291-4 

Oad-fly 181 

Gage, Gen. 80 
Gain, greed of 47 
Galleys 127 

Gallitzin, Prince 137-8 
Gambler 142 
Gangway 103 
Gauntlet 265 
Gayety 277 



INDEX. 



301 



Oenii 260 

George III, 7l\ 74 

Ghost 25, 190, 1?S, 217, CfiO, 

279 
<;host o< Philip Rogers 141 
liibson. Col. John i<l,m 
Oirty, Simon, to C«loii«I 

Crawford 9H-100 
Oist, Bold ChriiitoplK-r 

27-29 
<Jist, Thomas 76 
<ilade 43,56. 311 
Glaive 265 
Glamour 272 
(ilass 226-8 
<;i€n 111 
Glory 33 

Gnadenhiitten 8S, 91-3 
Onadeiiliuetten, Mall«t 

of 91-3. 96 
Cioblin 260 
<iod 20,72,75, 79. 93, 97, 98, 

109, IR9, 261, 266, 282, 291-4 
God, man of 57 
CJods of the Redman 19-22 
Gold, Braddock's 44-47 
Gold 202, 227. 235, 266 
Golden fleece 282 
Good 36, 79, 87, 94, 189, 261 
Goose 111. 238 
Gossamer 274 
(iotthold. J. Newton 105 
Gourd 226 
Gout 264 

Orace, liOve's Holy 236 
Cirandmother 237 
Grandsire 44,71,92, 127 
Grant, Major 56,63 
Grave 26, 35, 4^3, 63, 263, 26,5, 

281 
Grapevine Ridge 20 
Graveyard Grotesques 

240-1 
Gray hairs 217 
Greece 282 
Greed, grave of 133 
Greed 236 
Green 287 
Green county 141 
Greensburg 73, 212, 251 
Grief 148 

Grose, Francis 251 
Grotesques, Graveyard 

240-1 
Grudge 48 
Guitar 262 

Gulf of the Giver 16, 101 
Gully 39 

Guyasootlia 60-62 
Guyasootha's War 87 

Had I IVist 29 

Hail 89 

Hair 24, 51, 66, 92, 126, 142, 

151, 166, 217, 235 
Halket, Sir Peter 40, 42 



Haliaetus leucr oeplialoc 

245 
Halket 62 
Halidoni 24. 218 
Halo 261 
Haise 117 

Haniamelis Virginiana 20;! 
Hammock 277 
Hand 66 

Hand, earth -freed 11, io 
Hands clasped 283 
Hanna, Robert 73, 74 
Haiinastowu 61. 62,72-78,93, 

84-86 
Hanna^^town, Heroine of 

JOl-2 
Hare, C. I. 26 
Harlot 244 

Harmony Society. 139-40 
Harporhynchus rufus 226 
Harper of Death 255 
Harrison, Sarah 93-101 
Gen. Wm. 20 
Maj. Wm. 100 
Harvest 2{K> 
Haste 94 
Hank 2(iO 
Hay 267 
Hat 31 

Hate r8, 122, 252 
Haze 278 
Hazel 202 

Haunted Man, The 110- J3 
Head 15, M, 51, 81, 244 
Headless Heart, The 170- 
Head of Iron, The, See 

Forbes 
Heart 15, 24, 28, 30, 34, 35, 41. 
64, 66, 81, 94, 106. 227-8, 
241. 244. 2^3,277, 279, 281, 
293 
Heart a Brad dock 41 a Hal- 
ket 41 
Heart ESntonibed, The 

237 
Heart, The Headless 170- 
Heath 28,56, 89, 140 
Heaven 18, 30, 3.5, 39, 98, 101. 
108, 117, 168, 215, 266, 288, 
292-3 
Hebrew 18, 282 
Hell 18,30, 35, 39, 40, 69, 75, 
98,104. 108, 123, 129, 161. 
168, 215. 244, 265. 289 
Hell, The Hoary Old He- 
ro of 141-60 
Helmet 265 
Hematite 201 
Hemlock ( Abies) 20, 138 
Hemlock ( Conimn ) 202 
Hermit Crahs, liiterarv 

245 
Hero 101 
Hickory 177, 191 
Highest type 293 
Highlanders 62-5 



302 



INDEX. 



Highway of life 16« 

Hill, A. F. 141, 192 

Hindo 282 

Hindoo Sage 2.56 

Historians 34 

Hoar-frost 260 

Hobbies 264 

Hog 284 

Holcroft, John 115 

Holkar, John 103 

Holy Essence 266 

Homage 266 

Honesty 122 

Hope 265 

Horizon 291-4 

Horrell.John 110 

Horror 51, 123, 143 

Horse 205, 258 

Horseshoe 202 

House- snake 191 

Howard, William 77-8 

Hub 55 

Huffnagle, Michael 101 

Hug 34 

Human 286 

Humanity 226, 227 

Humility 265 

Humor 194 

Hunter 104 

Hunter, Col. Samuel 88 

Hunter, Col. Robert 110-13 

Husband and wife 15, 16 

Husk 272 

«I" 283 

Ice 9-16, 83, 198, 236, 259 

Icicle 287 

Idea vs the ej^e 18, 137, 

107, 124-27 
Jdol 282 
Ignorance 24 
Imagination and tlie "Eye 

Immortality 58, 82, 282 
Immortelle 247 
Incomprehensible 283 
Inanition 294 
Indecision 232 
Independence, American 

86-7 
India 282 
Indians 10. 29, 53, 55, 60, 70, 

87.202 
Indian -pipe 192 
Indian Summer 76, 138,251 
Individuality 281, 292 
Involution 291-4 
Infamy 107 
Infant 283 
Infinite 291-4 
Infinity 272 
Ingot 38 

Ingratitude 49, 186 
Ingratitude of Republic 

105-9 
Inquisitor 264 



Insanity l'"4-7 

Ireland 86-7 

Irisli Convict, The 67-70 

Iron 102-4, 201 

Iron-horse 38 

Isabel 239 

Isabel Dell 47-53 

Israel, lost tribe of 18 

Irvine, Gen. Wm. 89, 99 

Izard 271 

"Jack" 283 

Jackson, Andrew 19 
Jackson, R. M. S. 191, 200 

201-2, 223, 226 
Jacobs, Captain 53 
Jail 170 
Jailer 170 
Jasper 16, 20, 24 
Jealousy 32 

Jeanot and Jeanette 23 
Jehovah 283 
Jefferson, Thomas 16 
Jester of Old Kins Coal 

212-24 
Jew 264 

Jewels I Prize 235 
Jew- spectacled 18 
Jim Cro-«v, King Cork 

and 192 
Jimson weed 202 
"John' 283 
Johnson, Andrew 25-5 
Johnston, Gen, 60 
.Tames 59 
William 160 
Jolitt", Luke 76 
Jones, William R. 38, 42 
Jossakeed 169 192 
Joshua 243 
Jove 205, 266 
Joy 100, 128, 140, 181, 266 
Judges 90 
Judgment Day 211 
Jumonville, Grave of 35- 

36 
June 122 
Juniata 54 

Katy-Did 248 

Keg 285 

Kelp. King of 228-31 

Kelpie 260 

Key 33 

Killdeer 206 

Kincaid, James 84-6 

King Cork and Jim 

Crow 192 
King, Dr. A. T. 212 
King of serpents 180-92 
King of the Kelp 228-31 
Kirchoff, Professor 227 
Kiskiminetas 22, 53 
Kiss 33, 89, 147-8, 166. 175,207, 

235-7, 244-6, 249, 252, 285 
Kiss, Last of Love 246 



INDEX. 



303 



Kittanning 53-4 
Knight, Dr. John 93 
Knout 264 
Kiihleborn 198 

liady, Letter to 242-3 
Lady of Life 288 
Iiady'« Lament, Ltove- 
JLoni, 255 

La Fayette, P'ort 110 

Lake 258, 272 

Ijaineiit, Liochry's 88-90 

liameut, L<ove-lom La- 
dy's 255 

Lamp, Slave of tlie 228-31 

Lash, the 73-8 

Last 292 

Last Kiss of Love 21(5 

Last Man, Tlie 291-4 

Last of tlie Mammoths 
9-17 

Laughter 32. 194, 262, 275 

Laura 285 

Laurel Hill 20, 161, 179, 203 

Lava 103 

Law-abiding raan, the 119 

Laws 72 

Lawsuit 268 

Lawyers 9'J, 221 

Lead 186 

Leaf 5^, 147, 2-57, 272 
Leaf- mould 20 

Lear, King 198 

Leather 272 
Leather Breeches 90 
Lechery 48 
Ledger of life 217 
Lee, Gov. 116 

Leg 51, 263 

Legeud of Weeplns AVll- 

low 250-4 
Leghorn, Port of 129 
Leman 47 
Lenore 215 

Lemoyne, Captain 47-5;3 
Leper 281, 288 
Lesley, Peter 201 
Let ter from God 202 
Letter to a Lady 212-3 
Liar 240. 244 
Life 88, 138 
Light 88, 138 

Lightning 21, 28, 39, 51, 101, 
143, 205, 258, 265. 276, 287 
Ligonier 59, 164, 203 
Lily 119 

Lily of France 23-7 
Limners 278 
Limpet 252 
Lion 56 
Lip 142, 272 
Literary Hermit Crabs 

245 
Little Hatchet 270 
Lizard 265 
Loathing 33 



L'^chry, Archibald 88-90 

Lochry's Lament 88-90 

Logan, James 81 

Logan, the Mingo 81-2 

Logos 201 

Loon 54 

Lord, the 266 

Loretto 137 

Lost tribe of Israel 18 

Louisiana, 23-7, 47-53 

Louis XIV 23 

Louis XV 32, 47 

Love 58, 100, 101, 117, 196,205, 
233, 235-7, 212, 244, 252. 
262 

Love, Last Kiss of 246 

Love-lorn Lady's La- 
ment 255 

Love or Lucre 34 

Lover 23 

Lover, The Demon 239-40 

Love's Holy Orace 236 

Love's Rule of Three 247 

Love, Washington in 58 

Loving and Longing 238 

Loyalhanna 58-9 

Loyal hanua 105-6 

Lucre 31 

Lungs 284 

Lust 31-), 47^2, 147-9, 249, 
284 

Lute 262 

Lyell, Sir Charles 212 

Lynx 28, 56 

" M " 283 

Machault, Fort 27 

Mad-dog 109 

Magazine 34 

Maggots 40, 46 

Mahoning, Maid of 231-2 

Maid 237-8 

Maid and Mirage 164-9 

Maid of Mahoning 231-2 

Male and female 281 

Mallet 9L-3 

Mallet of Qnadenhuet- 

ten. The 91-3, 96 
Mammoth-hunter 9-17 
Mammoths, Last of 9-17 
Man 19, 189, 214, 233, 258, 281, 

286 
Man and Mammoth 9-17 
Man and wife 15 
Man and woman 15-6, 141. 

166 
Manhood 198, 263 
Manito of Redman 20-2 
Man-of-war 263 
Man, the Allegheny 15 
Man, to You 244 
Maple 236 

Marmie, The Fate of 102-4 
Marriage 159 
Mars 39 
Marshes 22 



W4 



INDEX. 



5Iarsh-ffas 22 < 

Mary, Holy 28:^ 

Mast 263 

Maslersou. Pat John 7H 

Mastodon 9, 10 

Matin-bell 1*^8 

Maternity 2r:iH 

Matter 207, 281, 28<J, 2J)l-l 

Matter and force Vi 

Mand 273, 2*1 

May 212 

McClean's For<J 70 

McUorinick. Judge JXJ 

Mc^Cullougb, John 17. 22. 59, 

M9, 200 
McKay, .^neas 79 
McKenzie 68 

Measoii^ Sam, tlie Robt>e]r 
Melancholy 122, 234-3, 216 
Melody 289 
Melody, Negro 192 
Melons 40 

Memory's n>ad-dog 109 
Mercer. Col. 59, 62 
Meteor 24.> 
Mexico. Gulf of 2:ii 
Meyeisdale 202 
Midges 275 
Mifflin, Gov. 116 
Might 88 
Milk 174, 201, 205 
Milky Way 2.53, 281 
Miller's Fort 102 
Mimus CaroMnensis 212, 223 
Mimus polyglottus 226 
Mind 261,264,291 
Miner 39, 214 
Miner's .song 216 
Minstrelsy, Negro 192 
Mira 2.37 
Mirage 265 

Mira^c^ Tlxe Maid and 161 
Mirror 280 
Mirth 213, 285, 288 
Mississippi 9, 127 
Mist 119,198,202.287 
Mockery 18,72 
Mocking-bird 225, 2-^9 
Modesty 117 
Mold of humanity 273 
Mole 147 
Molehill 11 
Moll Dell 201 
Monoiigahela 15, 17, .36, 42, 

70, 234 
Monotropa unlflora 192,231 
Monster 51 
Moon 197, 202, 243, 2(51, 277, 

285 
Moonlight 197, 200 
Moravians 55, 88, 91 
Morgan, Gen. Daniel 76 
Mormon, Book of 17 
Morn 237 

Morris, Robt. Hunter S" 
Morrow, (Jol. Robert 25.5 



Mortal 58 

Moss 219 

Mother 19,66, 71, J>2, 121, 16-1, 

237, 257, 28,'J 
Mother, Holy 138 
Mother-in-law 84,211 
Mother-naked 117 
Motion 273 
Mound- builders 17 
Mountains 28 
Mount Braddock 27 
Mouth 141 
Mt. Pleasant 161 
Mud 38 
Mullein 18 
Munro 63 

Murder 4.5, 72, 140, 141, 14» 
Murderer 277 
Musca volens 245 
Music 212, 225. 246. 262, 274, 

285 
Musk 272 
Musferat 209 
Mutineers 131 
My Eye and Betty Martin 

69 
Mysticism 282 
Myth 1-5,47,125 
Myth, of Braddock's Gold 

44 
Myth of .Mammoth 16 
Myth of White deer 26 

Name 55, 264 

Natal nook 12 
Nature and Art 242 
Necessity, Fort 36 

New France, 23, 47 

Negress 286 

Negro 226 

Negro Melody 192, 225 

Negro Minstrelsy 192, 225 

Nemesis 123 

Neville, John 78, 86, 

Nevin, Robert P. 92, 191 

New 249 

Newt 202 

Niagara 284 

Niagara, Fort 59 

Night 108, 229, 237, 2S6 

Nightshade 255 

Night-workers 136 

Nirvani 266 

Noon 237 

North 15 

Norway 26^3 

Nose 2:«, 287 

November 141 

Nuttall 223 

Oak 37, 56, 62, 258 
Oak-ivy 28 
Oar 282 — 

Octobv r 76, 272 
Ogle, Gen. 105 
Ohio 9, 20, 22 



INDEX. 



305 



Ohio-gheny 233 
Ohio Pyle falls 233 
Oh, I Would L.ove You 
Alwajr 237 

O'l 'Mi, 2Z6 
Old 219 

Oxd Jt£in«^ Coal, The Jes- 
ter of 212 

Old State Robber 194, 251 
Oliver, James B. 102 
Once, and Once Only- 249 

Opossum 194 

Orange 247 

Oratory 81 

Orbs 294 

Orgasm 2S4 

Ormsby, John 57, 59 

Orphan 210 

Owl 10, 56, 178, 203, 211, 25S 

0x258 

Paclcsaddle Gap 197, 200 

Paleface 22, 139 

Panther 28, 108 

Pappoose 88 

Paralysis 162 

Parapet 49 

Pardee 47, 53 

Parnassus 280 

Pair 291 

Passion 244, 284, 293 

Past 11, 279, 291 

Pattern 273 

Peace, Man of 56 

Peacp-Pipe 57 

Peach 202, 273 

Pean, Madame 31 

Pearl 236, 266, 274 

Peas 271 

Pen n, John 88 

Penn, William 79 

Pestilence 202 

Petroleum 202-3, 228-31 

Phantasy 30, 252, 272 

Philadelphia 211, 212, 268 

Philosophy 249, 281, 289 

Phosphorescence of Sea 
256-57 

Pibroch 63 

Picket 41 

Picket, Luke 73 

Pie 271 

Piegnot, M. 224 

Pillory, The 77-78 

Pine 219, 262, 263 

Pit-posts 217 

Pitt, Fort 55 

Pittsburgh 9, 23, 37, 47, 53, 
55, 61, 65, 68, 76, 82. 127, 
225 228 ' ' ' ' ' 

Pitt, William 54-55 

Pipe, Captain 95, 99 

Pipe of Peace 57 

Piper li^ad, Tlic 62, 64 

Pipes 56 

Pirates 130 



Place of Hogs 92 
Plagiarists 215 
Plane-tree 2)0 
Pl^.taaus o-cidentalls 2)5 
Pieasmt Unity 212 
Pleasure 233 
Plutarch 2J-J 
Poesy 272,281, 290 
Poesy and Science 22>-8 
Poet 241, 2S0 
Pontiac 61. 62 
Pontiac's War 87 
Pool 37 

Poplar, Silver-leaf 198,200 
Populus Alba 20) 
Port Pitt 117-37 
Post, Christian Fred- 
erick 55-5S 
Post to Pillar, From 77-78 
Potato 2JS 
Pouchot, M. 31 
Powder 67-70 
Praise 234 
Prayer 261, 231 
Prayer, Man of 57 
Precipice 2^ 
Pride 41, 101. 109, 2 Jl, 231 
Prince of Oil 2 39 
Prinos verticillatus 212 
Printing-office 23 J 
Provance, Wm. Yard 70 
Proverb 183, 192, 22:J 
Prow 274 
Pulpit-boy 39 
Pumpkins 271 
Punclieon 163 
Purple 272 
Pyranga rubra 169 
Pyre 259 

Q,uadruped 231 

Quartz 16 
Quarry 104 

Rabble and Rout 10 

Rack 264 

Rag-baby 271 

Railroad 33 

Rain 89, 360 

Rainbow 35. 2$6 

Rain-drop 230 

Randolph Ridge 20 

Rapids 2S4 

Rapp, George 139-40 

Rat 170 

Rattlesnake 29, 133, 170 

Rattlesnake bond 170 * 

Raven 166 

Raw red Root 146 

Rebuke of the Sage 2^56-7 

Recollection 294 

Red 272 

Red-headed Woodpecker 

64-65 
Red- maple 236 
Reed 219 



306 



INDEX. 



Ileetl. .Tost-ph SH 

Keel 2)9 

Keflex action 191 

Religion 2S2 

KeiMoi>e lo;} 

Heveiifie 4U, 7<> 

Kevolmion vtU-l 

Uev()lu«i..n, Tlie J-^O. S7 

Khu« 2S. '2<), i;iS, 2()2 

Khymt^ it^o 

llh> ines ii\H\ .l\uii]i'H 'il>i 

Uice, VV. D. 103-0 

Kiddle 82 

Ki<i?e 01, 28 » 

liidiier 172: 

Kigdon Sidney IH 

Kight.78. W, 122 

Rwia 2ol, 277 

Ripe 27-5 

River 2.58 

River of liiood. f^ee Uhlo 

Jiivers 2S 

Kock UU 

Rockets 27", 2."^! 

Rotrks 2< 

Rosters. Phi!ip lli-6) 

Rose 117. U!), I8y, 277 

Rnby 'i:V) 

Rum 80.81 

Rupp. [. D. fiS, liH 

Rust 2)2 

Has lies 2l 

Sage, L<e1>uke of 2'»(>-7 

Sage 2f) 

Saint 26). 2:8 

St. Clair, Artiiur 78, 71, 86, 

10l-!» 

St. Clair. Murray M> 

St. Elmos Fire 52 

St. I>a\vrenee 23 

St. PieJTe, Legardeur de 27 

Salix Babylonica 21 

Sal mo tontinalls 218 

Salt, Salt Sea 1«0- <J 

Salt- well 1(50 

Sand 2-5 

Sandusky 00 

sapling 10 

sarjjasso. Sea of 228 

Sargent, Winthrop 82, 81, 

41. 48 
Satiety 8!, 14") 
Savage 20, 08 
Sirales 2()7 
s«-alp h)X 
Scalp Prviniitni, llir H7- 

88,01 
Scapegoat 43 
Scar 54 

science 201,266 
Science, A<'ademy of 212 
Science and Poesy 226-8 
Schooners 127 
Scold, punishment of ^2■84 
Scoi)s asio 208, 211 



Scorn 62 

Scotland 53, 6*?, 67. 86, 87 

Scythe 27. 107, 262, 293 

Sea 256 

Sea of Eternal Rest 16 

Sea of Forever 71 

Sea-rover 266 

sea- weed 228-31,25) 

Seed i;«, 267 

Seeing and Blind 14 

Selfishness 145, 244 

Sell-comprehensible 201 

Self-torture 270 

Sensation 293 

Senses, the 133 

Sequence 292 

Seven Years' War 23, 34, 35 

Sexton 267 

Shalt 216 

Sharks 219 

Shaw, Margaret 101 

Shells 255 

Sherrard, Robert A. 100 

Shingis 58 

Shins 45 

Ship, Tile Spectre r27-37 

Shooting-star 215 

Shroud 71, 90 

ShuflSe 194 

Signet ring 261 

Silenee 280 

Silk 176,272 

Silken suckling 92 

Silkmoth 130 

Silver 227, 23-5 

Silvered sage 02 

Silk^vorm, To A 218 

Silkworm 139 

Sin 44-7, 161, 160-4, at)2, 2(i7 

Sin.Shipof i;35 

Sister 121 

Skull 40,260,285,291 

Sky 260, 272 

Slave 72, 265 

Slave of the L.amp 22S-2;il 

Slavery 194 

Slaves 133-7, 225 

Sledge 45, 274 

Sleep 266, 276 

Sleet 89 

Slime 280 

Slouch 38 

Slover 99 

Small Potatoes 271 

Smell, Sense of 211 

Smile 2:^7, 275 

.Smith 70 

Smith, Devereux 79 

Smith, Elizabeth 84-S6 

Smith, Feather 137 

Smith, James 90 

Smith, Joseph 17 

Smith, Philip 01 

Smith, Rev. Joseph fH) 

Snag 52 

Snail 270 



INDKX. 



307 



Snakes 21 

Snow 9, 89, 90. 267, 259 

Somerset 201, 203 

Son of (iod 292 

Song-sorceress 262 

Sorrow 213, 267 

Soul 127-3.S, 266, 279, is I. '2i}\ 

South 15, 52 

Space 293 

Spanish -boot 264 

Spaulding, Rev. Solomon 17 

Spear 11 

Spectre 201 

Spectre of the Button- 
wood 197-200 

Spectre Ship of Port Pitt 
127-37 

Spectrum Analysis 22(t 

Speed 94 

Spider 170. 2;W 

Spinster 282 

Spite 122 

Spring So, 213, 2:^(), 261, 207 

Spring-beauty 169, 192 

Squash 271 

Squaw 88, 94 

Staff 263 

Stahlstown ICA 

Star 24, 9o, 16.-,, 215. 245, 246, 
256, 281 

Statute 143 

Stealth 45 

Steam 25s 

Steamboat 37 

Steel 273 

Stinson, Mesgie 66 

Stobo 62 

Stock ley, Captain 8S 

Stolen sweets 166 

Storm 37, 51, 62. 166, 197-2<X> 
234, 257, 275-6, 287 

Sto»T o<" Poor liittle Sue 
206 

Stout, Ebenezer 113-27 

Stout, Peggy 113-27 

Straw 272 

vStream of soace 293 

Stythe 224 

Sublimity 81 

Sue, Story of Poor I^lttle 

Suicide 145 

Sulphur 204 

Summer 213, 23(3, 243, 260, 287 

Sum organic 293 

Sun 19, 71, 95, 107 202. 227, 

24;3, 260, 278, 285 
Sunset 278 
Superstition 201-2 
Sutler 33 

Swamp-maple 236 
Swank, .Tames M 103 
Swath 294 
Swoon 276, 289 
Sword 26.5 
Sycamore 200 



Symbol 277 
Symbolism 272 
Sympathy 170-192 

Tanager 169 

Tapestry 266 

Tar and feathers 113-27 

Tears 101,278 

Tensel 140 

Tecumseh 10 

Teeth 264 

Telegraphy 258 

Telescope-eye '2S0 

Temperance 206 

I'empt St 260 

Territion 264 

ThenaropusheterodactylU"; 

212 
Thew 261 
Thief 77, 202 
Thickets 2,s 
Thirst 112 
Thistle 25S 
Thomas, M. 35 
Thorn 277 
Thorn-apple 202 
Thought 11, 5.5. 249, 280. 291-1 
Thought, apparition of 12 
Thought of (iod 291 
Thrasher 22« 
Thrush 226 
Thumb-screw 261 
Tluinder 21. 39, 51, 101, Ii;;, 

265. 276, 287 
Thiindi r-bolt 13 
Tide 228 

Time 229,261.262,292 
Time, Fiddler of 285 
Time, River of 15 
Toad 265 
Toad- stool mx 
Toast 23, 142 
Tocsin 262 

Tomahawk 39, 107. 13:» 
Tomb 2;37, 240 
Tom tlie Tinker's Time, 

A Tale of 1 13-27 
Tongue 63 
Tooth 262 

Tooth, Ilalkefs 40, 42 
Tooth, Mammoth s 9, 15 
Totemic 262 
Toy 177, 272 
Traders, Indian 67 
Train- boy 38 
Traitor's tree 126 
Tramp 40 
Treasure-trove 14 
Triple whirl of eartii 291 
Troth 148 

Trotter, Sergeant 111 
Trout 213, 232 
True 248 

Trust of Love 276 
Truth 117. 141.262. LfW 
Truth. Man of .56 



308 



INDEX. 



Turnbull andMarmie 102 
Turtle Creek 42, 56 
Tunnel -head 103 
Tusk 13 
Twilight 62 
Twin 23 

rbiqtilty 274, 283 
Undertaker 222, 238 
Undine 198 

Valhalla 266 

Vampire of hell 240 

Vanity 264, 281 

Varmint 79 

Veech, James 71, 93 

Vein 272 

Vengeance 96, 98, 107 

Venango 26, 59, 228 

Vest 271 

Vice 248 

Victor 261 

Victory 282 

Vines, a compass 28 

Violin 274 

Virginia 78-84 

Virtue 248 

Vise 45 

Visions 293 

Voice 118,248,262,275 

Voice of I lie Anvil 250 

Volcano 288, 103 

Vortical 277 

Vortex 181, 284. 291-4 

"Walce 259 

Walk-around 194 
Waltz 276, 284-5 
Want 44 
War 58, 262 
Ward. Ensign 23 
Warblers 258 
War-whoops 21 
Washington City 25.5 
Washingtoii, George 16, 

27, 29, 30-36, 41, 56. 58, 60, 

62, 68, 99 
Washington (town) 90 
Water 202,236,258,265 
Water-boy 38 
Water-shed 10 
Water-spout 287 
Wax 273 
Wax figures 204 
Wax-pipe 189, 231-2 
Wayne, Gen. Anthony 110 
Wedge 45, 274 282, 293 
Wedge of Life 393 
Weeping 89 
Weeping "Wlllo'w, I^e- 

geud of 250-4 
Weevil 260 
West 11, 87 
Westmoreland 72, 73, 106, 

141, 170 
Wheat 267 



Westmoreland, Witch o 

203-5 
Wheel 264 
Whipping-Post, The 73 

Whirlpool 276 
Whirlwind 21 
Whiskey 67-70, 192 
Whiskey Insurrection 

113-27 
Whisper 262 

White and Red-man 22, 139 
White-damp 224 
White deer 25-27 
White Rocks 14l-60i 
Widow 210 
Wife 16, 149, 241, 263 
Wild-cat 56 
Wild-fire 27, 37 
Wild-goose 268 
Will 233 

Williams, Polly 141-60 
Williams, Aaron 139 
Williamson, Col. David 88, 

91-3 
Will o' the wisp 287 
Wind 258, 260, 287 
Wind-fiower 169, 190 
Wine 140 

Winter 213, 236, 257, 287 
Wisdom 24, 26, 262 
Witch 49, 201-2, 203-5 
Witchery 30 
Witchery of words 30 
Witch hazel 202 
AVltch of W^estmoreland 

203-5 
Wizard 260 
Woe 101, 290 
Wolf 10, 28, 40. 56, ftS, 94 
Womb 21, 39, 58 
Woman 205, 233, 235, 244, 248, 

273, 281, 285 
Woman, The Monongahela 

15 
Woman at Whipping-post 

84-86 
Wonder 143 

Wood, Alphonso 260, 236 
Woodpecker 64-65 
Worm 265, 299 ^. J 

Worms 199 
Wrong 78, 122 
Wrath 27, 197 

Yankee Doodle 270 

Yoni 202 
Yosemite 264 
Youghiogheny 233 
Youghiogheny county 82 
Yough, The Dare-Dcvll 

Youth 140,198, 231, 262, 263, 
267 

Zomara 255 

Zest 13 



APPENDIX. 



Afin que les honorables emprises & nobles 
auentures & faicts d'armes, par les guerres de 
France & d'Angleterre, soient notablem^t enreg- 
istrez & mis en memoire perpetuel, parquoy les 
preux ayent exSple d'eux encourager en bien 
faisant, ie vueil traicter & recorder Histoire de 
grand' louange. — Les Croniqves de Messirr 
Jean Froissart: Prol: 



THE BATTLE BALLADS 

AND OTHER POBMS OF 

SOUTHWESTERN 

PENNSYLVANIA 



AN APPENDIX TO 

SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA 

IN 

SONG AND STORY 



WITH NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY FRANK COWAN. 



GREENSBURO, PA, 

PRINTED BY THE A UTHOR. 

MDIIILXXVIII, 



Entered,'according to Act of Congress, in the year 
1878, by 

Frank Cowi»f, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washing- 
ton, D. C. 



DR. CHARLES M. TREE, 

OF WASHINGTON, D. C, 

IN REMEMBRANCE OF A RAMBIiE WITH HIM 

OVER THE HISTORIC HILLS 

OF 

SOUTHWESTERN PENNSYLVANIA 

IN THE 

CENTEN NIA L YEA R 

OF 

A3IERICAN INDEPENDENCE, 

THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



The following poems are taken mainly from 
two unpublished collections of the writer which 
may be designated as " The Battle Ballads of 
America," and -'The Poets and Poetry of South- 
western Pennsylvania." With the excepcion of 
a ballad entitled "Harmar's Defeat," detailing 
the disastrous results of the expedition against 
the Indians in 1790. and a ballad recounting the 
exploits in the West of a certain John Scull of 
Pittsburgh — possibly the old-time printer, but 
more probably a later-day hero — the following 
pages contain all the Battle Ballads of South- 
western Pennsylvania of which the writer has 
any knowledge. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTORY. 

Pennsylvania in 169S, 

By Richard Frame 821 

THE FRENCH WAR, 
1754 — 1759. 
Juiiionville, 

By M. Thomas 326 

Peter 3Iercier, 

From the Pennsylvania Gazette 828 

AAvalting Braddock, 

From the Pennsylvania Gazette o2!i 

Braddock's Rally, 

By a Contemporary Poet 320 

Braddock's Defeat, 

By a Contemporary Poet 831 

Tlie Grave of Braddock, 

From the Gentleman's Magazine 383 

Braddock's Deserters, 

From the Genlleman's Magazine 333 

Ode to the Inliahitauts of Pennsylvania, 

From the Pennsylvauia Gazette 3:^J 

LORD DUN MORE' S WAR, 

177J. 

Tlie Battle of Point Pleasant, 

By a Contemporary Poet ;}.87 

THE REVOLUTION, 

1775 — 178:1. 

Tile Pennsylvania Song, 

Fi'om Dunlap's Packet 88<l 

Tlie Kind's O-wn Regulars, ( Braddock, j 

From tiie Pennsylvania Evening Post ;iiS 

Tke Battle of Trenton, ( St. Clair, ) 

By a Contemporary Poet 341 

Trenton and Princeton, (St. Clair, ) 

Bj' a Contemporary Poet 34.> 

Tke Battle of Princeton, (St. Clair, ; 

By a Contemporary Poet 341 

A Song for tlie Red- Coats, (St. Clair, ) 

By a Poet of the Revolution 34(j 



CCCXVIU CONTENTS. 



Tlie Fate of Joliu Biirgoyme, (St. Clair,) 

By a Contemporary Poet 352 

INDIAN WARS, 

1782 — 1791. 

Crawford's Defeat, 1783, 

By Dr. John Knight 3o:> 

Simon Glrty, 

By an Unknown Writer 857 

Moore's Lamejitatioii, 1T86, 

By a Contemporary Poet ;i57 

Tlie Massacre of tlie Moore Family, 

Anotlier Version o()0 

St. Clair's Defeat, 1791, 

By Majoi' Eli Lewis oHl 

Sinclair's Defeat, 

Met, al la's, or McCauley's version ;^ 

Tin Deft at of St. Clair, 

By William Munford 867 

Miami — A Monody, 

To ihe Memory of the Young Heroes who 
fell at the Miami, under General St. 
Clair 877 

THE WITISKEY INSURRECTION. 
1794. 

To Wlilskey, 

By the "Scots-Irishman," David Bruce 881 

To Alexander Addison, 

By the same 888 

To Hugli Henry Brackenridge, 

By the same 385 

To Alexander F. Dallas, 

By the same 386 

A Canny ^Vord to the Democrats, 

By the same 386 

Wliiskey, in Reply to tlie Scots-Irisliman, 

By H. H. Brackenridge 387 

M18CELLANE0 US, 
1798 — 1810 

To Alljert Gallatin, 1798, 

By David Bruce 389 

Den»ocratic Doggerel, 1799, 

By H. H. Brackenridge .393 



CONTENTS. 



A Review ot. the AVorthies, 1801, 

By David Bruce 395 

The Indian Chief, 1804, 

By Sally Hastings 398 

Pleasant Ohio, 1804, 

A Song by an Unknown Writer 402 

Polly A\'illiams, 1810, 

By Samuel Little 402 

The Murder of PoUy Williams, 

By A. F. Hill 4(>> 

Beaver's Boots, 

By John Greiner 410 

Handsome Mary, the Lilly of the West, 

A Ballad of the Boatmen of the Ohio 414 

The Boat Horn. 

By William O. Butler J15 

THi: WAR OF 1812. 

The Pennsylvania Line, 

By a Contemporary Po3t 4H 

The Mournful Tragedy of James Bird, 

By a Contemporary Poet 42) 

Perry's Victory on Lake E^rie, 

Several Ballads pertaining to 4'21 



ERR A TA. 



Page 341, line 21, for " they had much to brag of," read 
" they had not much to brag of." 

Same page, line 32, for "Riveries," read "Rivieres." 

Page 358, line 10, instead of " Wliat became of Miss 
Ivins is not known, " read " Miss Ivins reinuineda pris- 
oner until released. She stite^l to Ta'ii3s Moore, the son, 
that the burning of his mother and .sister was doae by 
a band of Cherokees who were returning from an excur- 
sion in which they had lost several of their party, and 
not by the Shawnees who had taken them. " 

Page 405, line 5, for " their " read " her. " 



THE BA TTLE BALLADS 

AND OTHER POEMS OF 

SO UTEWESTERN PENNSYL VANIA. 



PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. 



At the time the following poem was written — the 
first poem of Pennsylvania, by the bye, of which there 
is an authentic record — the wilderness of Southwestern 
Pennsylvania, included by the French within the boun- 
daries of Louisiana, and by the British within the terri- 
tory of the Province of Pennsylvania, was inhabited 
exclusively by the — 

Naked Indians, CloathM with their Skins, 
who, in the preceding pages, were represented as the 
successors in this region of the Mammoth-hunters 
and the Mound -builders. 



A Short Description of Pennsilvania, or, A Relation 
What things are known, enjoyed, and like to be discov- 
ered in the said Province, By Richard Frame. Printed 
and Sold by William Bradford in Philadelphia, 1692. 



To all our Friends that do desire to know, 
What Country 'tis we live in, this will show. 
Attend to hear the Story I shall tell, 
No doubt but you will like this Country well. 
We that did leave our Country thought it strange, 
That ever we should make so good Exchange : 
I think 'tis hard for me for to express, 
How God provided in a Wilderness, 
arge, a wo 
Wolves, and Bears and P 
Foxes, Raccoons and Otters dwelleth here, 
Beside all these the Nimble footed Dear ; 



322 PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. 



The Hare so lightly runs for to escape ; 

Yet here are things of a more stranger shape, 

The Female Possum, which I needs must tell ye, 

Is much admirM with her double Belly; 

The Belly for her Meat, she hath beside 

Another where her Young Ones use to hide. 

strange ! 'tis hard, I think, for me to name 

The Multidudes of Beasts, both Wild and Tame : 

Beavers here are, whose Skins are soft as Silk, 

Horses to Ride on. Cows to give us Milk, 

Beside the Beasts, whose Nature is so Rude, 

To speak of them, I think I must Conclude. 

As for the Flocks of Fowle, and Birds, pray mind, 

The Swans, and Geese, and Turkeys in their kind, 

The Turkey-Buzzard and Bald-Eagle high, 

Wild Ducks, which in great Companyes do fly ; 

More sorts of Fowle here are than I need tell, 

Yet here are other things, which do excell. 

The Fields, most fruitful, yield such Crops of 

Wheat, 
And other things most excellent to eat, 
As Barley, Rye, and other sorts of Grain ; 
In peace we plow, we sow, and reap again. 
Good Indian Corn, which is a larger breed, 
It doth our Cattle, Swine, and Horses feed, 
Buck-Wheat and Oats, beside, good store of Reed, 
A plentiful Land, plentiful indeed, 
For Plants, and Roots, and Herbs, wee'l let them 

be, 
To name the Fruit that grows upon each Tree: 
The fruitful Trees do flourish, and are green, 
Where Apples, Peaches, Quinces, Plumbs are seen, 
With other fruits, whose glittering faces shine, 
Xhe Grapes grow plenty on the fruitful Vine ; 
Wall-Nuts, Chestnuts, Hazel-Nuts appear, 
These things are plenty with us every year. 
More things I can relate, for all is true, 
And yet, not give the Country half his due. 
Also, here is of divers sorts of Fish, 
So good, so pleasant as a man need wish, 
Within our Rivers, swimming to and fro, 



PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. 323 

Great ones we catch, but small ones let them go. 
Here are more things than I can well express, 
Strange to be seen in such a Wildernci^s. 
By Day we work, at Night we rest in Peace, 
So that each Day our Substance doth increase : 
O blessed be his Name, who doth provide 
For you, and us, and all the World beside. 

The first part that I writ is good indeed, 
But yet perhaps the second may exceed : 
The Truth in Rhyme, which I do here compose, 
It may be spoken thus, as well as Prose ; 
Therefore unto my words once more attend ; 
Here are more Properties I shall commend. 

The Riches of this Land it is not known, 
What in the after Ages may be shown ; 
My words are true, for here were lately found 
Some Precious Mettle uoder-neath the Ground, 
The which some men did think was Silver Oar, 
Others said Copper, but some think 'tis more. 
They say there is a vein of Lead or Tin, ■ 
Where choicer Mettle lodgeth furthur in : 
So divers men have divers judgements spent. 
And so the matter lies in Argument. 
If men would venture for to dig below, 
They may get well by it, for ought I know ; 
Those Treasures iu the Earth which hidden be, 
They will be good, whoever lives to see. 
A certain place here is, where some begun 
To try some Mettle, and have made it run, 
Wherein was Iron absolutely found. 
At once was known about some Forty Pound. 

We know no end to this great Tract of Land, 
Where divers sorts of Timber Trees doth stand, 
As mighty Oaks, also, here's Cedars tall, 
And other sorts, 'tis hard to name them all, 
The strong Hickery, Locust and lofty Pine. 
'Tis strange to see what Providence divine 
Hath in this World ordained for to be, 
Which those that live at home do never see 



324 PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. 

I also give you here to understand 
What People first inhabited the land : 
Those that were here before theSiceeds and Fins, 
Were Naked Indians, Cloathed with their skins, 
Which can give no account from whence they came; 
They have no Records for to shew the same ; 
But I may think, and others may suppose 
What they may be, yet I think few men knows, 
Unless they are of Esaus scattered Seed, 
Or of some other wild corrupted Breed. 
They take no care to plow, nor yet to sow. 
Nor how to till their Land they do not know. 
Therefore by that we may observe it plain, 
That this can hardly be the Seed of Cain; 
Some men did think they were the scattered Jews. 
But yet I cannot well believe such News : 
They neither do New Moons nor Sabbath keep, 
Without much Care they eat, they drink, they sleep ; 
Their care for Worldly Riches is but light. 
By Day they hunt, and down they lie at Night, 
Those Infidels that dwelleth in the Wood, 
I shall conclude of them so far so good. 

You that will seek a Country strange. 

Attend to what is true. 
All that are willing to Exchange, 

An Old place for a New. 
We that our Country did forsake, 

And leave our Native Land, 
Will do the best we can to make 

Our Neighbours understand. 
Although I have a good intent, 

Yet hardly can express. 
How we, through Mercy, were content 

In such a Wilderness. 
When we began to clear the Land, 

For room to sow our Seed, 
And that our Corn might grow and stand. 

For Food in time of Need, 
Then with the Ax, with Might and Strength, 

The Trees so thick and strong. 



PENNSYLVANIA IN 1692. 325 

Yet on each side, such strokes at length, 

We laid them all along. 
So when the Trees, that grew so high, 

Were fallen to the ground. 
Which we with Fire most furiously 

To Ashes did Confound. 
Then presently we sought for Wood, 

I ujean (not Wood to burn, 
But for) such Timber, choice and good, 

As fitted well our turn. 
A city, and Towns were raised then, 

Wherein we might abide. 
Planters also, and Husband-men, 

Had Land enough beside. 
The best of houses then was known. 

To be of Wood or Clay, 
But now we build of Brick and Stone, 

Which is a better way. 

The Names of some of our Ihions. 

Philadelphia^ that great Corporation, 
Was then, is now our choicest Habitation, 
Next unto that there stands the German- Town 
Also, within the Country, up and down, 
There's Haverford^ where th' Welch-men do abide, 
Two Townships more, I think, they have beside: 
Here's Bristol, Plymouth^ JS'ewtoivn, here doth 

stand, 
Chester, Springfield, Marple in this land, 
Darhy, and other famous Habitations, 
Also, a multitude of New Plantations. 

The German- Town, of which I spoke before, 
Which is, at least, in length one Mile or More, 
Where lives High- German People, and Low- 

Dutch, 
Whose Trade in weaving Linnin Cloth is much, 
There grows the Flax, as also you may know. 
That from the same they do divide the Tow ; 
Their Trade sits well within their Habitation, 
We find Convenience for their Occupation, 



326 JUMONVILLE. 



One Trade brings in employment for another, 
So that we may suppose each Trade a Brother ; 
From Linnin Rags good Paper doth derive, 
The first Trade keeps the second Trade alive : 
Without the first the second cannot be, 
Therefore since these two can so well agree, 
Convenience doth approve to place them nigh, 
One in the German- Town, 'tother hard by. 
A Paper Mill near German- Town doth stand, 
So that the Flax, which first springs from the 

Land, 
First Flax, then Yarn, and then they must begin, 
To weave the same, which they took pains to spin. 
Also, when on our backs it is well worn. 
Some of the same remains Ragged and Torn ; 
Then of those Rags our paper it is made, 
Which in process of time doth waste and fade : 
So what comes from the Earth, appeareth plain, 
The same in Time returns to Earth again. 

So much for what I have truly Comps'd, 
Which is but a part of what may be disclosed, 
Concluding of this and what is behind. 
I may tell you more of my Mind ; 
But in the mean time be content with this same, 
Which at present is all from your Friend 

Richard Frame. 



— 1754 — 

JUMONVILLE. 



Insomuch as he was taken by surprise, the French 
insisted that Jumonville's death was not only a base 
act, but a cowardly assassination ; and for years, even 
down to our own times, their authors have continued to 
miisrepresent the occurrence, and to do an injustice to 
him who was incapable of acting unjustly to another. 
Chief among them was M. Thomas, an accomplished 
litterateur of the day, and a member of the Academy, 
who, in 1759, published his " Jumonville," a lengthy 
poem in four cantos, in which he not only painted the 



JUMONVILLE. 327 



death of that soldier in the most tragic colors, but tra- 
ces all the subsequent misfortunes of the English to that 
unpardonable act. His unseen shade is made to stand 
beside Washington on the ramparts of Fort Necessity, 
freezing his blood with supernatural fear, and calling 
into life poetic serpents to hiss and gnaw within his 
breast; or gliding through the lines ol his brethren 
points at his bleeding wounds yet unrevenged, 

" and cries aloud — to battle ! " 

Pursued thus by the inevitable sword of an aveng- 
ing Nemesis, the woes of the British during the next 
five years — the heavy visitation of what the poet is 
pleased to consider retributive justice, is finely given: 
"O malheureux Anglais ! " he exclaims: " Oh, wretch- 
ed people! " — Sargent. 



Je vois, dans ses projets, votre audace trompee, 
Des flots de votre san^ 1' Amerique trempee. 
Bradhoc, de vos complots sinistre executeur, 
Des traites et des lois sacrilege infracteur, 
Qui devait, en guidant vos troupes conjurees, 
Au char de 1' Angleterre euchainer nos contrees, 
Sur des monceaux de morts, perce de mille coups, 
Exhale ses fureurs et son arae en courroux. 

triste Virjj^inie ! malheureux rivages ! 
. Je vois vos champs en proie a des monstres sau- 

vages ; 
Je vois, dans leur berceaux, vos enfans massacres, 
De vos vieillards sanglants les membres dechir^s, 
Vos rem parts et vos toits devores par les flammes. 
La massue ecraser vos filles et vos femmes, 
Et, dans leur flancs ouverts, leur fruit infortunes, 
Condamnes a perir avant que d'etre nes. 
Votre sang n'eteint pas I'ardeur que les devore : 
Sur vos corps dechires et palpitants encore, 
Je les vois etendus, de carnage souilles, 
Arracher vos chevaux de vos fronts depouilles ; 
Et fiers de ce fardeau, dans leur mains triomphantes, 
Montrer a leurs enfants ces depouilles fumantes. 
Quels que soient les forfaits que nous aient outrages. 
Anglais, peut-etre,helas, sommes-nous tropvenges 1 



328 PETER MERCIER. 



— 1754 — 

PETER MERCIER. 



The following lines, from the Pennsylvania Gazette, 
of October 31, 1754, published by Benjamin Franklin, 
were inscribed " to the memory of Lieutenant Peter 
Mercier, Esq., who fell in the battle near Ohio river, in 
Virginia, July 3, 1754 " — that is, in the engagement, be- 
tween the British forces, under- Washington, and the 
French forces under the fiery Coulon-Villiers. resulting 
in the surrender of Washington and the evacuation of 
Fort Necessity : in what is now Fayette county, Penn- 
sylvania. 



Too fond of what the martial harvests yield — 
Alas ! too forward in the dangerous field — 
Firm and undaunted, resolute and brave, 
Careless of life invaluable to save — 
As one secure of fame, in battle tried, 
The glory of Ohio's sons he died. 

Oh, once endowed with every pleasing power 

To chase the sad and charm the social hour, 

To sweeten life with mild ingenuous arts, 

And gain possession of all open hearts. 

How have thy friends and comrades cause to mourn ! 

How wished they for thy peaceable return, 

Thy province and thy household to defend, 

And happily thy future years to spend! 

I hoped the fates far longer would allow 

The laurel wreath to flourish on thy brow ; 

I hoped to greet thee from thy northern toils 

Elate with victory, enriched with spoils : 

But now, alas ! these pleasin^j dreams are fled ! 

Sweetly thou sleep'st in glory's dusty bed. 

By all esteemed, admired, extolled, approved, 

In death lamented as in life beloved. 

Greorgia, loud-sounding, thy achievements tell, 

And sad Virginia marks where Mercier fell. 

Ah ! lost too soon — too early snatched away 
To joys unfading, and immortal day! 



AWAITING BRADDOCK. 329 



Happy ! had thy duration been prolonged 

To vindicate the British interest wronged ; 

Since none more ready to defend its cause, 

Or to support religion and the laws : 

In thee our royal sovereign has lost 

As' brave a soldier as his troops could boast. 

If at some future hour of dread alarms 

When virtue and my country call to arms 

For freedom, struggling nations to unbind. 

Or break those sceptres that would bruise mankind. 

In such a cause may such a death as thine, 

With equal honor merited, be mine. 



— 1755 — 

AWAITING BRADDOCK. 

From the Pennsylvania Gazette, No. 1360. 



Breathe, breathe, ye winds ; rise, rise, ye gentle 

gales ; 
Swell the ship's canvass, and expand her sails ! 
Ye sea-green Nymphs, the royal vessel deign 
To guide propitious o'er the liquid main : 
Freighted with wealth, for noble ends designed, 
(So willed great George, and so the Fates inclined.) 
The ponderous Cannon o'er the surges sleep ; 
The flaming Muskets swim the raging deep ; 
The murd'rous Swords, concealed in scabbards, sail, 
And pointed Bayonets partake the gale : 
Ah ! swiftly waft her to the longing shore ; 
In safety land her, and we ask no more 1 



— 1755 — 

BR ADD OCR'S RALLY. 

While both America and England were in a radiant 
glow of enthusiasm in anticipation of a.pre-determined 
victory, the following battle- call was composed in Ches- 



3S0 



ter county, Pennsylvania. It is not known by whom* 
however; nor fui'ther about it, save that it was still a 
favorite song in America during the Revolution a quar- 
tel of a century afterward, with the name of Lee — 
Charles or Light-Horse Harry — substituted for that 
of Braddock. 



To arras, to arms ! my jolly grenadiers I 
Hart, how the drums do roll it along ! 
To horse, to horse, with valiant good cheer ; 
We'll meet our proud foe, before it is long. 

Let not your courage fail you : 

Be valiant, stout and bold ; 

And it will soon avail you, 

My loyal hearts of gold. 
Huzzah, my valiant countrymen ! — again I say 

huzzah ! 
'Tis nobly done — the day's our own — huzzah, 
huzzah I 

March on, march on, brave Braddock leads the 

foremost ; 
The battle is begun as you may fairly see. 
Stand firm, be bold, and it will soon be over ; 
We'll soon gain the field from our proud enemy. 
A squadron now appears, my boys ; 
If that they do but stand ! 
Boys, never fear, be sure you mind 
The word of command ! 
Huzzah, my valiant conntrymen ! again I say 

huzzah I 
'Tis nobly done — the day's our own — huzzah, 
huzzah ! 

See how, see how, they break and fly before us ! 
See how they are scattered all over the plain ! 
Now, now — now, now, our country will adore us ! 
In peace and in triumph, boys, when we return 
again ! 
Then' laurels shall our glory crown 



331 



For all our actions told : 
The hills shall echo all around, 
My loyal hearts of gold. 
Huzzah, my valiant countrymen ! — again I say 

huzzah ! 
'Tis nobly done — the day's our own — huzzah, 
huzzah ! 



— 1755 — 

BRADDOCK'S DEFEAT. 



In November, 1755, the following verses appeared in 
either the New York Gazette or the Weekly Post Boy, 
it is xiot known now which. 



THE DYING GENERAL SPEAKS. 

Then, 'tis decreed — the vain exulting Gaul, 
In these ill-fated fields, beholds my fall. 
But let not Britain, when she hears the tale, 
In timid indolence my fate bewail. 
Oh, rather let her sons, unused to fear, 
To women leave the tribute of a tear. 
A brave revenge alone becomes the brave, 
A brave revenge these dying heroes crave. 
See where their mangled limbs bestrew the field : 
Firm, undismayed, unknowing how to yield. 
Behold them with their latest gasp of breath, 
Implore their country to revenge their death. 
May Britain, then, let loose her vengeful ire, 
Redoubled force repeated wrongs require ; 
Each active hand with martial terror arm. 
Each martial bosom with her spirit warm. 
So, haughty Gaul, when her exploits she hears. 
Shall with her ill-starred triumph mix her fears ; 
As midnight thieves that, wrapt in vile disguise, 
Have made some luckless traveler their prize, 
Afraid of justice, drop the booty won. 
And tremole for the mischief they have done. 
In vain the fettered Gaul prepares his chains. 



332 braddock's defeat. 

For British freedom, even in India's plains. 
Great George, born to command the free and brave, 
Shall break his weapons and chastise the slave. 
My blood I freely spill; rejoiced to make 
The first libation for fair Freedom's sake. 
For as, in Greece of old, the warrior's meed 
For liberty, is nobly thus to bleed. 

Here then I cheerful quit life's poor remains, 
For glory well exchanged in martial plains ; 
In future times, (nor do I boast in vain,) 
When Britain numbers o'er her warrior.train, — 
When time my errors shall obliterate 
And veil my faults in pity to my fate, — 
In the fair list, perhaps, shall stand his name. 
Who through these regions showed the road to fame ; 
Who midst these pathless wilds, and streams that 

roll 
From sources unexplored, first taught the Gaul 
That Britain's freeborn sons, inspired by fame, 
Nor danger daunts, nor toilsome marches tame. 

What though by me, these ill-starred heroes led, 
With me, oppressed by numbers, fought and bled ; 
What though our blood these barbarous currents 

dye, 

To savage rage exposed our bodies lie ; 
Yet still our name a terror shall remain, 
For length of ages to the servile train. 
Oft shall these warriors' shades, who sullen rove, 
Along the o'er-shadowed stream or twilight grove, 
Or o'er savannahs drear, in dread array. 
By moonlight gleam, their marshaled ranks display, 
Afi'right the Gaul, whose dazzled fancy sees 
The horrid armor glittering through the trees, — 
His shrivelled soul within him dies with fear. 
Whilst bursts of imaged cannon wound his ear. 
Nor will our pensive ghosts one comfort know, 
Till destined vengeance overtake the foe ; 
Till (servile Gaul expelled) fixed in these plains 
■ By British valor, British freedom reigns. 



bradpock's deserters. 333 



— 1775 — 

THE GRAVE OF BRADDOCK. 



The following lines "on the death of Gen. Brad- 
dock, said to be slain in an ambuscade by the French 
and Indians, on the banks of the Ohio, July 9, 1755," are 
from the Gentleman's Magazine, for August, 1755, 
vol, XXV., p. 383. 



Beneath some Indian shrub, if chance you spy 
The brave remains of murdered Braddock lie, 
Soldiers, with shame the guilty place survey, 
And weep, that here your comrades fled away. 
Then with his brother-chiefs'*' encircled round, 
Possess the hero's bones of hostile ground. 
And plant the English Oak,f that gave his name, 
Fit emblem of his valor and his fame 1 
Broad o'er this stream j shall thus his honors grow, 
And last as long as e'er its waters flow 1 



* His officers. 

t Bi*ad in old Saxon-English is the same as Broad, 
and Brad-oke the same as Broad- oak. 
1: The Ohio, 



— 1775 — 

BRADDOCK'S DESERTERS. 



In the same magazine — the Gentleman's — for Sep- 
tember, 1755, vol. XXV., p. 421, appeared the following 
"Apology for the men who deserted Gen. Braddock 
when surprised by the ambuscade." 



Ah ! Braddock, why did you persuade 
To stand and fight each recreant blade, 

That left thee in the wood ? 
That knew that those who run away. 
May live to fight another day, 

But all must die that stood. 



334 TO THE PENNSYLVANIANS. 

— 1756 — 

ODE TO THE INHABITANTS OF 
PENNSYLVANIA. 



From the Pennsylvania Gazette, September 30, 175(j. 



Still shall the tyrant scourge of Gaul 
With wasteful rage resistless fall 

On Britain's slumbering race ? 
Still shall she wave her bloody hand 
And threatening banners o'er this land, 

To Britain's fell disgrace ? 

And not one generous chieftain rise 
(Who dares the frown of war despise 

And treacherous fear disclaim) 
His country's ruin to oppose, 
To hurl destruction on her foes, 

And blast their rising fame ? 

In Britain's cause, with valor fired, 
Braddock, unhappy chief! expired, 

And claimed a nation's tear ; 
Nor could Oswego's bulwarks stand 
The fury of a savage band. 

Though Schuyler's* arm was there. 

Stil! shall this motley, murderous crew 
Their deep, destructive arts pursue, 

And general horror spread ? 
No ! See Britannia's genius rise 1 
Swift o^er the Atlantic foam she flies 

And lifts her laureled head ! 

Lo ! streaming through the clear blue sky, 
Great Loudon 'sf awful banners fly, 

In British pomp displayed ! 
Soon shall the gallant chief advance ; 
Before him shrink the sons of France, 

Confounded and dismayed. 



TO THE PENNSYLVANIANS. 335 

Then rise, illustrious Britons, rise ! 
Great Freedom calls, pursue her voice, 

And save your country's shame ! 
Let every hand for Britain armed, 
And every breast with virtue warmed, 

Aspire to deathless fame ! 

But chief, let Pennsylvania wake, 
And on her foes let terrors shake, 

Their gloomy troops defy ; 
For lo ! her smoking farms and plains. 
Her captured youths, and murdered swains, 

For vengeance loudest cry. 

Why should we seek inglorious rest. 
Or sink, with thougtless ease oppressed, 

While war insults so near? 
While ruthless, fierce, athirst for blood, 
Bellona's sons, a desperate brood I 

In furious bands appear I 

Rouse, rouse at once, and bodly chase 
From their deep haunts, the savage race, 

Till they confess you men. 
Let other Arm strongs J grace the field : 
Let other slaves before them yield, 

And tremble round Du Quesne. 

And thou, our chief, and martial guide, 
Of worth approved, of valor tried 

In many a hard campaign, 
Denny, 1 1 warmed with British fire, 
Our inexperienced troops inspire, 

And conquest's laurels gain 1 



* The victory of Montcalm, at Oswego, was a disas- 
trous blow to the British. The garrison which sur- 
rendered comprised sixteen hundred men. 

t Great Loudon, however, turned out to be a blus- 
tering do-nothing, of whom it was said, by Franklin, if 
I mistake not, " he reminds me of St. George on a sign : 
he is always on horseback, but never advances! " 



336 THE PENNSYLVANIA SONG. 

X Col. John Armstrong, the hero of Kittanning. 
See page 53, 

II William Denny, Governor of Pennsylvania, com- 
mission beai'ing date May 7th, 1756. 



— 1775 — 

THU PENNSYLVANIA SONG. 

The author of this ballad is unknown. It appeared 
originally in Dunlap's Packet, as the "Pennsylvania 
March, to the tune of the Scotch song, "I winna marry 
ony lad, but Sandy o'er the lea." 



We are the troop that ne'er will stoop 

To wretched slavery, 
Nor shall our seed, by our base deed 

Despised vassals be ; 
Freedom we will bequeathe to them, 

Or we will bravely die ; 
Our greatest foe ere long shall know, 

How much did Sandwich lie. 

And all the world shall know, 

Americans are free ; ,# 

Nor slaves nor cowards we will prove, 
Great Britain soon shall see. 

We'll not give up our birthright, 

Our foes shall find us men ; 
As good as they, in any shape, 

The British troops shall ken. 
Huzza ! brave boys, we'll beat them 

On any hostile plain ; 
For freedom, wives and children dear, 

The battle we'll maintain. 

What ! can those British tyrants think, 
Our fathers crossed the main, 

And savage foes, and dangers met. 
To be enslaved by them ? 



POINT PLEASANT. 337 

If SO, they are mistaken, 

For we will rather die ; 
And since they have become our foes, 

Their forces we defy. 



— 1774 — 

THE BATTLE OF POINT PLEASANT. 



The commander of the English forces in the Battle 
of Point Pleasant, the decisive victory of Lord Dun- 
inore's War, in 1774, was General Andrew Lewis, who 
had played previously a conspicuous part in the early 
history of Southwestern Pennsylvania. He was a cap- 
tain in the engagement at Little Meadows, in 1754; and 
served with distinction in the expeditions of Braddock 
and Forbes. Washington entertained so high an opin- 
ion of his military abilities, that when the chief com- 
mand of the revolutionary armies was tendered to him- 
self, he recommended that it should be given preferably 
to his companion in arms for nearly a quarter of a cen- 
tury, General Lewis. His appearance was so magnifi- 
cent, that the Governor of New York, who beheld him 
at a treaty with the Indians in 1763, declared that "he 
looked like the genius of the forest; and that the earth 
seemed to tremble beneath his footsteps." The com- 
mander of the Indians was the distinguished chieftain 
(jorn stalk. 



Let US mind the Tenth day of October, 
Seventy-four, which caused woe. 

The Indian savages they did cover 
The pleasant banks of the Ohio. 

The battle beginning in the morning, 
Throughout the day it lasted sore, 

Till the evening shades were returning down 
Upon the banks of the Ohio. 

Judgment precedes to execution, 
Let fame throughout all dangers go, 

Our heroes fought with resolution 
Upon the banks of the Ohio. 



388 THE king's own regulars. 

Seven score lay dead and wounded 
Of champions that did face their foe, 

By which the heathen were confounded 
Upon the banks of the Ohio. 

Col. Lewis and some noble captains, 
Did down to death like Uriah go ; 

Alas 1 their heads wound up in napkins 
Upon the banks of the Ohio. 

Kino;s lamented their raio:hty fallen 
Upon the mountains of Gilboa, 

And now we mourn for brave Hugh Allen 
Far from the banks of the Ohio. 

Oh, bless the mighty Kins of Heaven, 
For all his woundrous works below, 

Who hath to us the victory given 
Upon the banks of the Ohio. 



— 1776 — 

TRE KING'S OWN REGULARS. 



The following song appeared in the Pennsylvania 
Evening Post, March 80th, 1776, as "A New Song: The 
King's Own Regulars, and their Triumph over the Ir- 
regulars. To the tune of 'An old Courtier of the 
Queen's, and the Queen's old Courtier,' which is a kind 
of recitavo, like the chanting of the prose psalms in 
cathedi'als." It contains an interesting allusion to the 
Expedition of Braddock. 



Since you all will have singing, and won't be said 

nay, 
I cannot refuse, when you so beg and pray ; 
So, I'll sing you a song, — as a body may say, 
'Tis of the king's regulars, who ne'er ran away. 

the old soldiers of the king, and the king's 
own reirulars. 



THE king's own REGULARS. i]39 



At Prestonpans we met with some rebels one day, 
We marshaled ourselves all in comelj arraj : 
Our hearts were all stout, and bid our legs stay, 
But our feet were wrong-headed, and took us away! 

At Falkirk we resolved to be braver. 

And recover some credit by better behaviour ; 

We would not acknowledge feet had done us' any 

favor, 
So feet swore they would stand, but — legs ran, 

however. 

No troops perform better than we at reviews, 
We march and we wheel, and whatever you choose; 
George ! to see how we fight, and we never refuse' 
There we all fight with courage — you may see't 
in the news. 

To Monongahela, with fifes and with drums. 
We marched in fine order, with cannon and bombs ; 
That great expedition cost infinite sums, 
But a few irregulars cut us all into crumbs. 

It was not fair to shoot at us from behind trees: 
If they had stood open, as they ought, before our 

great guns, we should have beat 'em with 

ease; 
They may fight with one another that way, if 

they please. 
But it is not regular to stand, and fight with such 

rascals as these. 

At Fort George and Oswego, to our great repu- 
tation, 

We showed our vast skill in fortification ; 

The French fired three guns ; of the fourth they 
had no occasion ; 

For we gave up those forts, -— not through fear, 
but — mere persuasion. 



340 THE king's own regulars. 



To Ticonderoga we went in a passion, 

Swearing to be revenged on the whole French 

nation ; 
But we soon turned tail without hesitation, 
Because they fought behind trees, — which is not 

the regular fashion. 

Lord Loudon, he was a regular general, they say; 
With a great regular army he went his way. 
Against Louisburg, to make it his prey. 
But returned — withuut seeing it, — for he did 
not feel bold that day. 



Grown proud at reviews, great Greorge had no rest ; 
Each grandsire, he had heard, a rebellion sup- 



He wished a rebellion, looked round and saw none, 
So resolved a rebellion to make — of his own. 

The Yankees he bravely pitched on, because he 
thought they wouldn't fight, 

And so he sent us over to take away their right ; 

But lest they should spoil our review-clothes, he 
cried braver and louder, 

"For G-od's sake, brother kings, don't sell the cow- 
ards — any powder ! " 

Our general with his council of war did advise 
How at Lexington we might the Yankees surprise ; 
We marched and remarched, all surprised at being 

beat ; 
And so our wise general's plan of surprise was 

complete. 

For fifteen miles they followed and pelted us ; we 

scarce had time to pull a trigger ; 
But did you ever know a retreat performed with 

more vigor ? 
For we did it in two hours, which saved us from 

perdition ; 
'Twas not in going out, but in returning, consisted 

our expedition. 



TRENTON. 341 



Says our general, ''We were forced to take to our 

arms in our own defence:" 
(For arras read legs, and it will be both truth and 

sense :) 
*' Lord Percy, " says he, *' I must say something of 

him in civility, 
And that is — I can never enough praise him for 

his great agility, " 

Of their firing from behind fences he makes a 

great pother : 
Every fence has two sides ; they made use of one, 

and we only forgot to use the other. 
That we turned our backs and ran away so fast, 

don't let that disgrace us ; 
'Twas only to make good what Sandwich said, 

that the Yankees could not face us. 

As they could not get before us, how could they 

look us in the face ? 
We took care they shouldn't, by scampering away 

apace. 
That they had much to brag of, is a very plain 

case ; 
For if they beat us in the fight, we beat them in 

the race. 



— 1776 — 

BATTLE OF TRENTON. 



When the Revolution commenced St. Clair embraced 
the American cause; and in January, 1776, he was ap- 
pointed to commend a battalian of Pennsylvania mili- 
tia. He was engaged in the expedition to Canada, aad 
was second in command, in the proposed attack on the 
British post at Trois Riveries. Afterward, he was in the 
Battle of Trenton, and had the credit of suggesting the 
attack on the British at Princeton, which proved so 
fortunate. 



On Christmas day, in 'Seventy-six, 
Our ragged troops with bayonets fixed, 



342 TRENTON. 

For Trenton marched away. 
The Delaware see ! the boats below ! 
The light obscured by hail and snow ! 

But no signs of dismay. 

Our object was the Hessian band, 
That dared invade fair freedom's land, 

And quarter in that place. 
Great Washington he led us on, 
Whose streaming flag, in storm or sun, 

Had never known disgrace. 

In silent march we passed the night. 
Each soldier panting for the fight. 

Though quite benumbed with frost. 
Greene, on the left, at &ix began, 
The right was led by Sullivan, 

Who ne'er a moment lost. 



Their pickets stormed, the alarm was spread, 
That rebels risen from the dead 

Were marching into town. 
Some scampered here, some scampered there, 
And some for action did prepare ; 

But soon their arms laid down. 



Twelve hundred servile miscreants , 
With all their colors, guns, and tents, 

Were trophies of the day. 
The frolic o'er, the bright canteen, 
In centre, front, and rear was seen 

Driving fatigue away. 

Now, brothers of the patriot bands, 
Let's sing deliverance from the hands 

Of arbitrary sway. 
And as our life is but a span, 
Let's touch the tankard while we can. 

In memory of that day. 



TRENTON AND PRINCETON. 343 



— 1777 — 

TRENTON AND PRINCETON. 



The following ballad has been written from the dic- 
tation of a lady who remembers hearing it sung by a 
child to the British troops, who accidentally overheard 
her and urged her to repeat it to them, with which she 
complied, much to their amusement.— iJ/cCar^l/. 



On December the sixth 
And the twentieth day, 

Our troops attacked the Hessians, 
And showed them gallant play. 

Our roaring cannon taught them 

Our valor for to know ; 
We fought like brave Americans 

Against a haughty foe. 

The chief were killed and taken, 
The rest were put to flight, 

And some arrived at Princeton, 
Half-fainting with afi"right. 



The third of January, 

The morning being clear, 
Our troops attacked the regulars, 

At Princeton, we do hear. 

About a mile from Princeton 

The battle it begun, 
And many a haughty Briton fell 

Before the fight was done. 

And what our gallant troops have done 
We'll let the British know ; 

We fought like brave Americans 
Against a haughty foe. 



344 PRINCETON. 



The British, struck with terror, 

And frighted, ran away : 
They ran across the country 

Like men in deep dismay. 

Crying to every one they met, 
"0 ! hide us ! hide us ! do ! 

The rebels will devour us, 
So hotly they pursue," 

0, base, ungenerous Britons! 

To call us by that name; 
We're fighting for our liberty, 

Our just and lawful claim. 

We trust in Heaven's protection, 

Nor fear to win the day ; 
When time shall come we'll crown our deeds 

With many a loud huzza ! 

Our foes are fled to Brunswick, 
Where they are close confined ; 

Our men they are unanimous, 
In Freedom's cause combined. 

Success to General Washington, 
And Gates and Putnam, too, 

Both officers and privates, 
Who liberty pursue. 



— 1777 — 

THE BATTLE OF PRINCETON. 



Stern winter scowled along the plain, 
And ruthless Boreas urged amain 

His fierce, impetuous course ; 
In ice the watery regions bound. 
The torrent's foaming rage confound 

And stop its boisterous force. 



PRINCETON. 345 



While hostile bands their rights invade, 
Columbia's sons in tents were laid, 

And winter's blasts defied ; 
No foes appal, no dangers fright, 
Whilst Freedom's sacred cause they fight, 

And Washington's their guide. 
»>► 
While slumbers sealed the hero's eyes, 
He saw a godlike form arise, 

Like martial Pallas drest ; 
'Twas Liberty ! celestial maid ! 
In all her golden charms arrayed, 

The goddess stood confessed. 

" My son," she cried, " the gods above. 
Thy country's sacred cause approve. 

And on thy virtues smile ; 
Though proud oppression waste the land, 
Yet freedom purchased by thy hand. 

Shall soon reward thy toil. 

''Lo! where Britannia's banners rise 
In awful pomp, and brave the skies, 

Exulting o'er the land ; 
Her haughty legions soon shall feel 
The force of thine avenging steel. 

And this thy chosen band. 

"Though veterans compose their train, 
And tenfold legions fill the plain. 

To martial deeds inured ; 
Undaunted rise and take the field, 
For Liberty shall lend her shield 

And Victory her sword. " 

Up rose the chief, at the command, 
And straight convened his faithful band, 

Inspired by freedom's lore ; 
Egyptian darkness veiled the night. 
But Liberty's celestial light 

Their footsteps went before. 



340 A SONG FOR THE RED-COATS. 

Where Princeton rears the muse's seat, 
In arras the hostile leo;ions met, 

And fate upheld the scale ; 
Forth rushed the blazing orb of light 
To add new glories to the sight, 

When Freedom's sons assail^ 

Like Mars, Columbia's hero stood ; 

Her hauLjhty foes were drenched in blood. 

Or shunned the doubtful fight; 
Whilst Britons shame and grief confound, 
Fair Liberty the victors crowned 

With honors ever bright. 

Henceforth the grateful muse shall twine 
Her annual wreath at Freedom's shrine, 

The hero's brow to grace ; 
By whose victorious arm restored, 
No more she flies the hostile sword, 

But hails her native place. 

And still with the revolving year, 
A garland shall the muse prepare, 

To deck her Mercer's urn ; 
While Freedom fills the trump of fame, 
Columbia shall revere his name, 

His fate her sons shall mourn. 



— 1777 — 

A SOJSTG FOR THtJ RED- CO ATS. 



This ballad was known during the revolution, as the 
" North Campaign," "Gates' Song," and "A Song for 
the Red-Coiits." It has been attributed to a " private of 
Colonel Bi'ook's regiment," and also to the author of 
"American Taxation." 



In August, 1776, St. Clair was appointed a Brigadier, 
and in February, 1777, a Major General. He was the 
commanding officer at Ticonderoga, New York, when 
that post was invested by the British, and evacuated it, 
July 6th, 1777, with such secresy that a considerable part 



A SONG FOR THE RED-COATS. 34' 



of the public stores was conveyed away in safety. 
Charges of cowardice, treachery, and incapacity were 
brought against him in consequence ; but a court of in- 
quiry, presided over by General Lincoln, acquitted hixn 
"of all the charges ogainst him, with the highest 
honor." 

Among the stories, which t-he ignorant and credu- 
ulous were led to believe concerning the evacuation of 
Ticonderoga by St. Clair was this, that he had received 
an immense treasure in silver balls fired into his camp 
by Burgoy ne ! No wonder, St. Clair, in his letter to Jay, 
wrote that he " despised the vague censure of an unin- 
formed populace." 



Ccme unto me je heroes 

Whose hearts are true and bold. 
Who value more your honor, 

Than others do their gold ; 
Give ear unto my story, 

And I the truth will tell, 
Ooncerning many a soldier, 

Who for his country fell. 



Burgoyne, the king's commander. 

From Canada set sail. 
With full eight thousand reg'lars, 

He thought he could not fail ; 
With Indians and Canadians, 

And his cursed Tory crew, 
On board his fleet of shipping 

He up the Champlain flew. 



Before Ticonderoga, 

The first day of July, 
Appeared his ships and army. 

And we did them espy. 
Their motions we observed, 

Full well both night and day. 
And our brave boys preparM, 

To have a bloody fray. 



348 A SONG FOR THE RED-COATS. 

Our garrison they viewed them, 

And straight their troops did land, 
And when St. Clair, our chieftain, 

The fact did understand, 
That they the Mount Defiance 

Were bent to fortify, 
He found we must surrender. 

Or else prepare to die. 

The fifth day of July, then. 

He ordered a retreat, 
And when next morn we started, 

Burgoyne thought we were beat. 
And closely he pursued us, 

Till when near Hubbardton, 
Our rear guards were defeated. 

He thought the country won. 

And when 'twas told in Congress, 

That we our forts had left, 
To Albany retreated, 

Of all the North bereft ; 
Brave Greneral Grates they sent us, 

Our fortunes to retrieve, 
And him with shouts of gladness. 

The army did receive. 

Where first the Mohawk's waters. 

Do in the sunshine play, 
For Herkimer's brave soldiers, 

St. Leger ambushed lay ; 
And them he there defeated, 

But soon he had his due, 
And scared by Brooks and Arnold, 

He to the north withdrew. 

To take the stores and cattle. 
That we had gathered then, 

Burgoyne sent a detachment. 
Of fifteen hundred men ; 



A SONG FOR THE RED COATS. 349 

By Baum they were commanded, 

To Bennington they went ; 
To plunder and to murder, 

Was fully their intent. 

But little did they know then, 

With whom they had to deal, 
It was not quite so easy, 

Our stores and stock to steal ; 
Bold Stark would give them only, 

A portion of his lead ; 
With half his crew ere sunset, 

Baum lay among the dead. 

The nineteenth of September, 

The morning cool and clear, 
Brave Gates rode through our army, 

Each soldier's heart to cheer ; 
"Burgoyne," he cried, "advances, 

But we will never fly ; 
No — rather than surrender, 

We'll fight him till we die. " 

The news was quickly brought us, 

The enemy was near. 
And all along our lines then 

There was no sign of fear ; 
It was above Stillwater 

We met at noon that da}^ 
And every one expected 

To see a bloody fray. 

Six hours the battle lasted, 

Each heart was true as gold, 
The British fought like lions, 

And we like Yankees bold ; 
The leaves with blood were crimson, 

And then brave Gates did cry — 
" 'Tis diamond now cut diamond ! 

We'll beat them boys or die." 



350 A SONG FOR THE RED-COATS. 

The darkness soon approaching, 

It forced us to retreat, 
Into our lines till morning 

Which made them think us beat ; 
But ere the sun was risen, 

They saw before their eyes, 
Us ready to engage them, 

Which did them much surprise. 

Of fiojhting they seem weary, 

Therefore to work they go. 
Their thousand dead to bury. 

And breastworks up to throw ; 
With grape and bombs intending 

Our army to destroy, 
Or from our works our forces ' 

By stratagem decoy. 

The seventh day of October, 

The British tried again, 
Shells from their cannons throwing. 

Which fell on us like rain ; 
To drive us from our stations. 

That they might thus retreat ; 
For now Burgoyne saw plainly, 

He never could us beat. 

But vain was his endeavor 

Our men to terrify ; 
Though death was all around us, 

Not one of us would fly. 
But when an hour we'd fought them, 

And they began to yield, 
Along our lines the cry ran, 

"The next blow wins the field ! " 

Great God, who guides their battles, 
Whose cause is just and true. 

Inspire our bold commander. 
The course he should pursue. 



A SONG FOR THE RED COATS. 351 

He ordered Arnold forward, 

And Brooks to follow on ; 
The enemy was routed ! 

Our liberty was won ! 

Then burning all their lug^ge, 

They fled with haste and fear, 
Burgoyne with all his forces, 

To Saratogue did steer ; 
And Gates, our brave commander, 

Soon after him did hie, 
Resolving he would take them, 

Or in the effort die. 

As we came nigh the village, 

We overtook the foe ; 
They'd burned each house to ashes. 

Like all where'er they go. 
The seventeenth of October, 

They did capitulate, 
Burgoyne and his proud army. 

Did we our pris'ners make. 

Now, here's a health to Arnold, 

And our commander Gates, 
To Lincoln and to Washington, 

Whom every Tory hates ; 
Likewise unto our Congress, 

God grant it long to reign ; 
Our Country, Right, and Justice, 

For ever to maintain. 

Now finished is my story. 

My song is at an end, 
The freedom we're enjoying 

We're ready to defend ; 
For while our cause is righteous. 

Heaven nerves the soldier's arm. 
And vain is their endeavor. 

Who strive to do us harm. 



352 JOHN BURGOYNE. 



— 1777 — 

THE FATE OF JOHN BURGOYNE, 



When Jack, the King's commander, 

Was going to his duty, 
Through all the crowd he smiled and bowed, 

To every blooming beauty. 

The city rung with feats he'd done, 

In Portugal and Flanders, 
And all the town thought he'd be crowned 

The first of Alexanders. 

To Hampton Court he first repairs, 
To kiss great George's hand, sirs. 

Then to harangue on state affairs, 
Before he left the land, sirs. 

The '-lower house" sat mute as mouse, 

To hear his grand oration ; . 
And "all the peers" with loudest cheers, 

Proclaimed him .to the nation. 

Then off he went to Canada, 

Next to Ticonderoga, 
And quitting those, away he goes, 

Straightway to Saratoga. 

With great parade his march he made, 
To gain his wished for station, 

When far and wide his minions hied, 
To spread his "Proclamation." 

To such as staid he offers made. 

Of "pardon on submission ; 
But savage bands should waste the lands 

Of all in opposition." 

But ah, the cruel fate of war ! 

This boasted son of Britain, 
When mounting his triumphal car, 

With sudden fear was smitten. 



Crawford's defeat. 353 

The sons of freedom gathered round, 
His hostile bands confounded, 

And when they'd fain have turned their back, 
They found themselves surrounded ! 

In vain they fought, in vain they fled, 
Their chief, humane and tender, 

To save the rest, soon thought it best 
His forces to surrender. 

Brave St. Clair when he first retired, 
Knew what the fates portended ; 

And Arnold and heroic Grates, 
His conduct have defended. 

Thus may America's brave sons 

With honor be rewarded. 
And be the fate of all her foes, 

The same as here recorded. 



— 1782 — 

CRA WFORD 'S DEFEA T. 



Through the courtesy of my friend and fellow-la- 
borer in the field of American history, Mr. C. W. But- 
terfield, the author of the elaborate monograph on Craw- 
ford's Expedition, I am enabled to reproduce the follow- 
ing old ballad " copied from Doctor Knight's Narrative 
by Robert A. Sherrard, and carefully preserved for more 
than sixty years." Mr. Sherrard states that Dr. Knight 
himself was the author of the poem. 



Come all you good people wherever you be, 
Pray draw near a while, and listen to me ; 
A story I'll tell you which happened of late, 
Concernino; brave Crawford's most cruel defeat. 



o 



A bold hearted company, as we do hear, 
Equipped themselves, being all volunteer : 
Their number four hundred and eighty and nine ; 
To take the Sandusky town was their design. 



354 Crawford's defeat. 

In seventeen hundred eighty and two, 
The twenty-sixth of May, I tell unto you, 
They crossed the Ohio, as I understand, 
Where brave Colonel Crawford, he gave the eon>- 
mand. 

With courage undaunted away they did steer, 
Throu<i;h the Indian country without dread o? fear^ 
Where Nicholson, Slover, and Jonathan Zane 
Conducted ^hem to the Sandusky plain. 

Now brave Colonel Crawford, an officer bold. 
On the fifth day of Jane did the Indians behold 
On the plains of Sandusky ; at three the sanae day. 
Both armies did meet in battle array. 

The Indians on horseback — Girty gave the com- 
mand — 
On the side of the plains, they boldly did stand ; 
Our men like brave heroes upon them did fire. 
Until backward the Indians were forced to retire. 

Our rifles did rattle and bullets did fly ; 
And some of our men ou the ground there did lie ; 
And some being wounded, to comrades, they said, 
'^Fight on, brother soldiers, and be not dismayed ! '^ 

Then brave Colonel Williamson, as I understand , 
He wanted two hundred men at his command : 
If the same had been granted, I make no great 

doubt, 
Bat he soon would have put the proud Indians to 

rout. 

For this brave commander, like a hero so bold, 
Behaved with courage, like David of old. 
Who with the Philistiens"^ he used to war. 
And returned safe home without receiving a scar. 

There was brave Major Brinton, the first in com- 
mand, 
In the front of the battle he boldly did stand ; 



Crawford's defeat. 355 



With courage and conduct, his part did maintain, 
Though bullets like hail in great showers they came. 

And as this brave hero was giving command, 
The rifle balls rattled on every hand. 
He received a ball, but his life did not yield : 
He remained with the w<3unded men out on th^ 
field. 

Brave Biggs and brave Ogle received each a ball : 
On the plains oF Sandusky, it was their lot to fall ; 
And not these alooe, but several men 
Had the honor to die on the Sandusky plain. 

There was brave Captain Munn like a hero of old. 
Likewise Captain Ross, who was another as bold, 
lieceived each a ball, but did not expire, 
Though into the camp they were forced to retire. 

There was brave Captain Hogland, I must not go 

past: 
He fought out and bravely, while the battle did 

last, 
And on the retreat to a fire did go — 
What became of him after, we never could know. 

There was Ensign McMasters, another as brave : 
He fought many battles his country to save ; 
On the plains of Sandusky, he received a wound — 
Not being able to go, he was left on the ground. 

There were Sherrard and Rogers with PauU of 

renown : 
They marched with Crawford to the Sandusky 

town, 
Where they bravely did fight till the battle was 

done, 
And without a scar they returnM safe home. 

Our officers all so bravely did fight. 
And likewise our men, two days and a night, 
Until a reinforcement of Indians there came. 
Which caused us to leave the Sandusky plain. 



356 Crawford's defeat. 

Then said our commander, "Since we have lost 

ground — 
By superior numbers they do us surround — 
We'll gather the wounded men, and let us save 
All that's able to go, and the rest we must leave. " 

There was brave Colonel Crawford upon the retreat, 
Likewise Major Harrison and brave Doctor Knight, 
With Slover, the pilot, and several men, 
Were unfortunately taken on the Sandusky plain. 

Well, now they have taken these men of renown. 
And dragged them away to the Sandusky town, 
And there in their council condemned for to be 
Burnt at the stake by most cruel Girty. 

Like young Diabolians * they this act did pursue, 
And Girty, the head of this infernal crew — 
This renegade whiteman was a stander-by, 
While there in the fire their bodies did fry. 

The scalps from their heads while alive they did 

tear ; 
Their bodies with red hot irons they did sear ; 
They bravely expired without ever a groan, 
Which might melt the heart that was harder than 

stone. 

After our heroes were burnt at the stake, 

Brave Knight and brave Slover, they make their 

escape ; 
And with Heaven's assistance, they brought us 

the news, 
So none need" the truth of these tidings refuse. 

Now, from East unto West, let it be understood — 
Let every one arise to revenge Crawford's blood, 
And likewise the blood of these men of renown, 
That were taken and burnt at the Sandusky town. 



* Credit Sherrard. 



SIMON GIRTY. 357 



— 1782 — 

SIMON GIRTY, 



ANONYMOUS. 

The outlawed whitenian by Ohio's flood, 

Whose vengeance shamed the Indian's thirst for 

blood ; 
Whose hellish arts surpassed the Redman's fur ; 
Whose hate enkindled many a border war, 
Of which each aged grandame hath a tale 
At which man's bosom burns, and childhood's 

cheek grows pale. 

— 1786 — 

MOORE'S LAMENTATION, 



The massacre of the Moore family is one of the most 
horrible butcheries to be found in tlie annals of th<e 
west. It occurred in the jear 1786, in Abb's valley, on 
the Blue Stone, in Western Virginia. The circum- 
stances were as follows — 

On the I4th of July, 1786, several horses came to the 
lick-blocks, about a hundred yards from the house, 
when James Moore, the father of the fated family, went 
out to salt them : two men, who were living with him, 
having gone before him into the field and were engaged 
in reaping wheat. The Indians, who were lying in am- 
bush, availed themselves of the opportunity, and rushed 
toward the house with speed. As they advanced, they 
fired, and killed three of the children, William and Re- 
becca, who were coming from the spring, and Alexan- 
der, in the yard. Mr. Moore, in attempting to get back 
to the house, was killed and scalped. The two men, 
who were reaping, hearing the firing, and seeing the 
house surrounded by the Indians, fled to the nearest 
house in the settlements, a distance of six miles. In 
the meantime, having heard the alarm, Mrs. Moore and 
Martha Ivins, who was living with her, barred the door 
of the cabin in the face of the savages; but without 
avail. An Englishman, John Simpson, lying sick in 
the house, was shot through a chink between the logs of 
1.life cabin, and killed. And having broken through the 



358 moore's lamentation. 



door, the Indians took the helpless inmates prisoners, 
John, Jane, Polly, and the baby, Peggy, and Martha 
Ivins. After firing the house, they set out for their 
town — presumably, Chilicothe. Finding that John 
Moore was weak and unable to travel, they killed and 
scalped him the first day ; and after carrying the baby 
two or three days, to end its fretting, they dashed out 
its brains against a tree. Upon reaching the town, Mrs. 
Moore and her daughter Jane were burned to death at 
the stake. What became of Miss Ivins is not known. 
While Polly was kept a prisoner among the Indians un- 
til released by her brother, James, the second son of the 
familj% who, two years before the massacre, had been 
made a captive by a band of Shawnese, the chief of 
whom was Black Wolf. 

I give here two versions of the old ballad, recount- 
ing the horrible fate of this family: the first, from a 
printed copy, through the courtesy of Dr. Tree ; and the 
second, as it has been sung to a comparatively recent 
day in Southwestern Pennsylvania, and taken down by 
Mr. Wm. H. Morrow, of Manor. 



Assist me with words, Melpomene, 
Assist me with skill to impart 

The dolorous sorrow and pain 
That dwell upon every heart. 

When Moore and his infantile throng 

The savages cruel did slay, 
His wife they led captive along : 

With murmuring voice she did say — 

" Farewell ! ye soft bowers so green, 
I'll traverse these valleys no more, 

Beside yon murmuring stream 
Lies bleeding the man I adore : 

And with him my sweet innocent babes, 
These barbarous Indians have slain, 

Were I but in one of their graves. 
Then I would be free from my pain." 

Once more on them she cast her eyes, 
And bade them forever farewell. 

Deep sobs from her bosom did rise, 
While she thus in anguish did wail. 



MOORE S LAMENTATION. 359 



The heathen her sorrows to crown, 
Led her without further delay, 

A victim to their Shawnee town, 
And now comes her tragical day. 

A council upon her was held, 

And she was condemned for to die ; 

On a rock they a fire did build, 
While she did her torments espy. 

With splints of light wood they prepared 
To pierce in her body all round. 

Her flesh for to mangle and tear. 
With sorrow she fell to the ground. 

But her senses returning again. 
The mercy of God did implore : 

"Thou Saviour, that for me was slain 
And bathed in bloody gore. 

Have mercy now on me in death, 

And Heaven will sing forth thy praise 

Soon as I have yielded my breath 
In a raging fiery blaze." 

When to her destruction proceeds 
Each cruel bloodthirsty hell-hound ; 

With light wood they caused her to bleed, 
Streaming from every wound. 

The smoke from her body doth rise ; 

She begs for their pity in vain ; 
These savages hear her loud cries. 

And with dancing laugh at her pain. 

Three days in this manner she lay. 
Tormented and bleeding the while. 

But Grod did his mercy display, 
And on her with pity did smile. 

Growing angry at their cruel rage, 
Her soul would no longer confine ; 

Her torments he soon did assuage. 

And in praise she her breath did resign. 



K60 THE MOORE MASSACRE, 

Let each noble valorous youth 

Pity her deplorable end ; 
Awhile from your true loves part, 

Join me each brother and frie»d. 

For I've been where the cannons did roar 
And the bullets did rapidly fly, 

And yet I would venture once more, 
The Shawnees to conquer or die. 



THE MASSACRE OF THE MOORE 
FAMILY. 



Come listen each male and female, 
Come listen each gallant stout heart, 

To a tale of great anguish and pain, 
Will cause the hot tear-drops to start. 

Of Moore and his family, I sing, 

Whom the barbarous Indians have slain. 

His wife they a captive did bring, 

Who with sorrowing voice did complain, 

'- Farewell to you, woodlands so green, 
Your valleys I'll never see more, 

Down by yon sweet murmuring stream, 
Lies bleeding the man I adore. 

With him my two innocent babes 

Whom the bloodthirsty Indians have slain, 

Oh, would that I were in their place, 
I'd be free from all sorrow and pain !" 

No one lent a pitying ear. 

While she her sad state did bemoan, 
These sad wailing accents to hear, 

Would have melted the heart of a stone. 



ST. clair's defeat. 361 

The Indians her sorrow to crown 

Then led her yet farther away 
A victim to their Shawnee town, 

And now came the murderous day. 

A circle of fire most fierce , 

These inhuman wretches prepared, 

While she in the centre was placed, 
Her delicate person all bared. 

With splinters of light wood near by 
To pierce her fair body around ; 

When she her sad fate did espy, 
Lamenting she fell to the ground. 

Reviving herself then again, 
The mercy of God did implore, 

"Have mercy upon me, Death, 
And soon let my sufi"erings be o'er !" 

Three days in this torment she lay, 
A-bleeding and sufl'ering the while, 

Till the Lord did his mercy display. 
Looked down upon her and did smile. 

Come join me each brother and friend, 
Come join me each gallant stout heart, 

Consider her terrible end. 

And awhile from your sweethearts depart. 

I've been where the cannons did roar, 
I've been where the bullets did fly. 

And still I will venture once more 
These Indians to conquer or die ! 



— 1791 — 

ST, CLAIR'S DEFEAT. 



The author of this, possibly the most celebrated of 
the popular songs of Southwestern Pennsylvania, as I 
am informed by my erudite co-laborer, Dr. Wm. H. 
Egle, of Harrisburg, was Major Eli Lewis, who escaped 
the carnage of that terrible day on the headwaters of the 



362 ST. CLAIRES DEFEAT 



Wabash, November 4th, 1791. He was the father of Hon„ 
Ellis Lewis, a Judge af the Supreme Court of Pennsyl- 
vania, and the grandfather of Mrs. Juliet H. Campbell,, 
a poet of merit. Major Lewis is notable, morever, for 
having published the first newspaper at the capital of 
the state, "The Harrisburg Visitor," which, afterward,, 
in the hands of John Wyeth, became "The Dauphin 
Oracle." Major Lewis died in 1807, in York: county,. 
Pennsylvania, 

November the fourth, in the year of 'Ninety-one^ 

We had a sore engagement near to Fort Jeffer- 
son : 

St. Clair was our commander, which may remem- 
bered be, 

For there we lost nine hundred men, in the West- 
ern Terr'tory. 

At Bunker's hill and Quebec, where many a hero 

fell. 
Likewise at Long Island, 'tis I the truth can tell : 
But such a dreadful carnage never did I see^ 
As happened on the plains near the river St. Marie. 

Our militia were attacked just as the day did 

break. 
And soon were overpowered, and forced to retreat. 
They killed Major Ouldham, Levin and Briggs 

likewise, 
While horrid yells of savages resounded through 

the skies. 

Major Butler was wounded the very second fire ; 

His manly bosom swelled with rage when forcM to 
retire. 

Like one distracted he appeared, when thus ex- 
claimed he, 

" Ye hounds of hell, shall all be slain, but that 
revenged I'll be ! " 

We had not long been broken when General But- 
ler fell ; 



ST. clair's defeat. SG3 



He cries, " M7 boys, I'm wounded ; pray take me 

off the field — 
My God!" says he, "What shall we do ? ■— 

Were wounded every man! 
Cro, charge i you valiant heroes, and beat them if 

you can ! " 

He leaned his back against a tree, and there re- 
signed his breath, 

And, like a valiant soldier, sank in the arms of 
death ; 

When blessed angels did await his spirit to convey, 

And unto the celestial fields he quickly bent his 
way. 

We charged again, we took our groun-d, which 

did our hearts elate : 
But there we did not tarry long ; they soon made 

us retreat ; 
They killed Major Ferguson, which caused his 

men to cry — 
■"Stand to your guns," says valiant Ford: "we'll 

fight until we die! " 

Our cannon-balls exhausted, our artillery men all 

slain, 
Our musket-men and riflemen their fire did 

sustain ; 
Three hours more we fought like men, and then 

Were forced to yield, 
While three hundred bloody warriors lay stretched 

upon the field. 

Says Colonel Gibson to his men, "My boys, be 

not dismayed ; 
I'm sure that true Virginians were never yet afraid ; 
Ten thousand deaths I'd rather die than they 

-^ should gain the field — " 
With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him 

to yield. 



364 Sinclair's defeat. 

Says Major Clark, " My heroes, I can no longer 

stand : 
We will strive to form in order, and retreat the 

best we can. " 
The word retreat, being passed all round, they 

raised a hue and cry, 
And helter-skelter, through the woods, we like 

lost sheep did fly. 

We left the wounded on the field, heavens! 

what a shock ! 
Some of their thighs were shattered, some of their 

limbs were broke ; 
But scalping-knives and tomahawks soon eased 

them of their breath. 
And fiery flames of torment soon tortured them 

to death. 

Now to mention our brave officers, 'tis what I wish 
to do ; 

No sons of Mars e'er fought more brave, or showed 
more courage true ; 

To Captain Bradford I belonged, in his artillery, 

Who fell that day, amongst the slain : what a gal- 
lant man was he ! 



SINCLAIR S DEFEAT. 



I append herewith another version of the popular 
old ballad of " St. Clair's Defeat "— a version which I re- 
ceived from John F. Beaver, Esq., of Ohio, as that of 
James McCalla, or McCauly, a popular, pock-marked 
Irish minstrel who flourished about the year 1808 in the 
neighborhood of Stoystown, Somerset County, Penn- 
sylvania. 



'Twas November the fo-urth, in the year of 'Nine- 
ty-one, 

We had a sore engag-e-ment, near to Fort Jeffer- 
son; 



Sinclair's defeat. 365 



Sinclair was our comandi-er, which may remem- 
ber'd be, 

For there we lost nine hundred men io the West- 
ern Ter'torie. 

At Bunker's Hill and at Quebec, where many a 

hero fell. 
Likewise at Long Isla-and, ('tis I the truth can 

tell,) 
And such a dreadful carnage may I never see 

again 
As happen'd near St. Mari-ie's, upon the river 

plain. 

Our army was attack/ed just as the day did dawn, 
And soon was overpower'd and driven from the 

lawn ; 
They killed Major Ouldham, Levin, and Briggs 

likewise, 
Whilst horrid yells of savages resounded through 

the skies. 

Major Butler was woundi ed the very second fire; 
His manly bosom swell'd with rage when forced 

to retire ; 
And as he lay in anguish, nor scarcely could he 

see, 
Exclaim'd "Ye fiends of hell shall fall, but I 

reveng'd will be ! " 

We had not long been broken, when Gen'ral But- 
ler found 

Himself so badly woundi-ed was forc'd to quit 
the ground. 

"My God," says he, "what shall we do! we're 
wounded every man ! 

Go charge them, valiant hero-oes, and beat them 
if you can ! " 



He lean'd his back against a tree, and there re- 
sign'd his breath, 



366 Sinclair's defeat. 



And like a valiant soldi-er sank in the arms of 
death ; 

When blessM angels did await, his spirit to con- 
vey ; 

And unto the celestial fields he quickly bent his 
way. 

We charg'd again with courage firm, but soon 

again gave ground, 
The war-whoop then redoubled, as did the foes 

around. 
They killed Major Ferguson, which caused his 

men to cry, 
"Our only safety is in flight ; or fighting here to 

die." 

"Stand to your guns," says valiant Ford, " let's 
die upon them here, 

Before we let the savages know we ever harbor'd 
fear. " 

Our cannon balls exhausted, and artill'ry men all 
slain, 

Obliged were our musket-men the enemy to sus- 
tain. 

Yet three hours more we fought them, and then 

were forced to yield. 
When three hundred bloody warri-ors lay stretch'd 

upon the field. 
Says Colonel Gibson to his men, " My boys be 

not dismayed ; 
I'm sure that true Virgini-ans were never yet 

afraid. 

" Ten thousand deaths I'd rather die, than they 

should gain the field ; " 
With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him 

to yield. 
Says Major Clark, " My heroes, I can here no 

longer stand, 
We'll strive to form in order, and retreat the best 

we can. " 



THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 367 



The word, Retreat, being pass'd around, there 

was a dismal cry, 
Then helter-skelter through the woods, like lost 

sheep we did fly. 
This well appointed army which up until that 

day 
Defied and brav'd all danger, like a cloud had 

pass'd away. 

The dying and the woundi-ed 1 (how dreadful is 

the thought 1) 
To the tomahawk and scalping- knife, in misery 

are brought; 
Some had a thigh and some an arm broke on the 

field that day, 
Who writh'd in torments at the stake, to close 

the dire afi'ray. 

To mention our brave officers, is what I wish to 

do; 
No sons of Mars e'er fought more brave, or with 

more courage true. 
To Captain Bradford I belong'd, in his artillerie, 
He fell that day amongst the slain, a valiant man 

was he. 



— 1791 — 

THE DEFEAT OF ST. GLAIR, 



The following poem was written by William Mun- 
ford, and published in Richmond, Virginia, in 1798, un- 
der the title of " A Lamentation for the Patriots who 
fell November 4th, 1791." 



Americans, attend my song ; 

A tale of grief I tell, 
How twice five hundred warriors stron g 

Far 'midst the forest fell. 



368 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIK. 



No friend tbeir dying eyes to close, 
All pieroed with wounds they lay^ 

The scoff of cruel savage foes^ 
The feast of birds of prey. 

Revenge, tbeir ghosts aloud deojand, 

Revenge your brethren slain ; 
Reventre us on the savage band 

Which stripped us on the plain . 

The hawks who range the fields of air 

Are fattened with our gore ; 
All ghastly pale, exposed and bare, 

The dogs our bodies tore. 

Those hands which all things dared for yo« 

The greedy foxes gnaw ; 
Those hearts which beat to honor true 

Are buried in their maw. 

Shall they who, in their country's cause. 

When tyranny assailed. 
Stood the brave cbanapions of her laws, 

And gallantly prevailed — 

Say, shall their scalps with haughty eye, 

By tawny chiefs be shewn ? 
Methinks I hear them boasting cry, 

'' Whiteraen, your fame is gone ! " 

Sleeps then that spirit which of yore 

The British thunder stayed, 
Forbad their lion huge to roar, 

And low his fury laid ? 

It does not sleep ; but soon shall rush 

Arrayed in native might. 
Their baseless vaunts in death to crush, 

And put their hopes to flight. 

Ye who, triumphant o'er the slain, 

With feet inhuman stride, 
Soon on the same ensanguined plain, 

In blood may set your pride. 



THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 369 

Think not our want of courage wrought 

Our fall beneath your arms ; 
Our little army bravely fought 

'Midst carnage and alarms. 

The greatest men may sometimes nod ; 

And so the great St. Clair 
By the dark providence of God 

Fell blindly in the snare. 

No scouts he sent, ond no look-out 

In marching did he keep ; 
lu valor proud he thought no doubt 

His enemies asleep. 

Those arts which savage heroes own, 

So dismal was our lot. 
To our great chief seemed little known, 

Or at that time forgot. 

Our powder wet small aid would give, 

Our horses were too poor, 
With labor spent scarce seemed to live. 

Yet on he went secure. 

Ye too, ye vile commissioners, 

Who arms and steeds supplied, 
By you were caused your country's tears, 

The woods with blood were dyed. 

Oh, shame ! to glut the avarice 

Of some few abject thieves, 
Our dearest blood a sacrifice ! 

My very heart-blood grieves. 

From far-famed states the warriors came 

To Miami's fatal shore, 
Led on by chiefs of mighty fame, 

Yet thence returned no more. 

How many widows wring their hands ? 

How many orphans weep ? 
Each a dear hapless friend demands 

Now sunk in endless sleep. 



370 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 

All ye who read this mournful tale^ 
With hearts which pity warms, 

The hard necessity bewail, 

Which calls mankind to arms. 

Behold the good, the valiant die, 

On war's dread altar slain, 
And mourn for human misery. 

Ye that are born to pain. 

Now on the field of death they lay, 

The army there divided ; 
Some here, some there await the day, 

A creek between them glided. 

There, too, with care their steeds they pDst, 

On all sides guard the place ; 
And yet that very night they lost 

Five hundred in short space. 

The wile was laid that very night. 
Our troops with speed surrounded ; 

The savage heart with fierce delight 
In every bosom bounded. 

Now when the sun scarce reared his head, 

And shone with earliest ray, 
A pack-horse man his fortune led 

Where the militia lay. 

He asked for leave to pass the guard 

To seek a stolen horse. 
Then leave received without regard 

Of danger took his course. 

Scarce out of sight the wretch had passed ; 

A gun the soldiers hear. 
And back they see him fly in haste , 

Ten Indians in his rear ! 

For mercy was his piteous call, 

Our men came on to aid ; 
They fired, but saw the victim fall : 

The foe rushed undismayed. 



THE DEFEAT OP ST. CLAIR. 371 

Sudden the dire war-whoop was heard, 

The hills, the woods resound, 
As springing from the earth appeared 

Indians on Indians round I 

A thousand tomahawks were sped, 

The lives of men their prey, 
At once full many a valiant head 

Beneath their fury lay ! 

Awhile amazed our sqadrons stood 

And heard the dreadful cry ; 
Cold terror ran thro' all their blood, 

They tremble and they fly. 

Their comrades slain, a lucky few 

By speed the army joined ; 
A dismal hail of bullets flew — 

The Indians close behind. 

Thither arrived, the foe retired ; 

The fugitives took breath, 
And there a respite short acquired 

From terror and from death. 

As twixt the flash and thund'riog sound, 

When vivid lightnings gleam, 
A pause ensues, such now they found 

The respite sad, I deem. 

Now on all sides begins the fight, 

With horrid savage cries ; 
The smoke of guns turns day to night, 

Blood flows and groans arise. 

Then did the gallant Oldham fall ; 

As at the army's head 
He charged, he met the cruel ball 

Which laid him with the dead. 

Heroes, who with him pressed the plain 

That day with equal fame ; 
Forgive me if my feeble strain 

Tells not each mighty name. 



372 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 

A hundred tongues would not suffice 

To give you all your praise, 
Too great for me the enterprize 

Your glorious deaths to raise. 

But now the bloody battle warms, 

Fiercer the hosts engage ; 
Our soldiers boldly stand to arms 

The Indians deadly rage. 

From ev'ry side at once they came, 
And ev'ry shot brought death ; 

In vain burned valor's vigorous flame. 
Our heroes spent their breath. 

While smoke and carnage blot the day 

Our guns are fired in vain. 
Destruction reigned and dire dismay 

O'er all the ensanguined plain. 

With savage art behind each tree 

Protection sure they found : 
No man his enemy could see ; 

The air our bullets wound. 

The cannon's awful voice awhile 

Their ardor fierce repressed, 
One moment stayed the bloody toil, 

New spirit filled each breast. 

But flight th' effect the cannon wrought, 
Too well that sound they knew ; 

Those dreadful arts which white men taught, 
Now numerous white men slew. 

E'en to their yawning mouths they came, 

And poured a leaden shower, 
Soon they who waked the cannon's flame 

Sank by its deadly power. 

Their arms the cruel Britons gave, 

Who view with fierce disdain 
The nation, whom they deemed their slave, 

The wreaths of glory gain. 



THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 



Full many Englishmen were seen 

Among the savage hosts, 
Nor would they take that part, I ween, 

But he, who holds the posts — 

Which in despite of treaties stand 
And now nine years have stood, 

He placed the hatchet in the hand 
Which reveled in our blood. 

Are, cruel England, these thy arts, 

And art thou thus avenged. 
Thus dost thou hope to gain the hearts 

Thy tyanny estranged ? 

Thus wilt thou break the sacred laws 

Which nations should obey. 
And haste to murder in the cause 

Of loathed despotic sway ? 

Yet midst the savage din of arms 
Which smote the bravest heart, 

St. Clair's brave soul felt no alarms : 
He did a warrior's part. 

With sad infirmity and pain 

His aged limbs were prest ; 
But still his soul could sloth disdain : 

Still vigor filled his breast. 

While bloody streams around him flowed, 

Serene his dauntless eye ; 
Where danger loudest called he rode, 

What man could do, to try — 

Once more to change war's cruel course 

To turn its rolling wave ; 
But naught availed ; nor art, nor force 

His brethren's lives could save. 

" Press on, brave boys ! your horses strain 
From their strongholds to drive 

Your savage foes ! " he cried in vain. 
The steeds were scarce alive. 



374 THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 

Two hours th' ill-fated army stood 

Till weakness and dismay, 
Had heaped the field with death and blood 

They then at length gave way. 

Now was a hurried scene of flight, 
And shrieks and cries were heard ; 

The gallant host of late so bright, 
Now one wide wreck appeared. 

Tliro' all the woods the wretches fled 
Pale-faced with aching hearts. 

The hatchets trembled o'er each head, 
Whistled the iron darts. 

But valiant Butler scorned to fly 

And taint his former name ; 
He chose to conquer or to die 

A sacrifice to fame. 

Firm in his post the hero stands, 
Whole squadrons 'round him dying, 

Undaunted calls to stop the bands. 
Who horror-struck were flying. 

Some scattered soldiers with him stood, 

When came a wound severe ; 
Forth gushed in tides the smoking blood, 

His death he found draw near. 

He bid his men not vainly grieve 

Till flight might be too late ; 
'*^ Farewell," he said : with tears they leave 

Their Gen'ral to his fate. 

An officer his pistols gave 

To combat to the last, 
As soldiers should to seek his grave : 

The vital stream poured fast. 

Fierce 'midst the foes with dread despair 

The fainting hero rushed, 
When breathed his manly soul in air, 

With force superior crushed. 



THE DEFEAT OF ST. CLAIR. 375 



Butler his countrymen shall mourn, 

Their friend forever lost, 
And doleful verse for aye adorn 

Him once Columbia's boast.* 

A wretched remnant yet remained 
In worthy Drake's command. 

He, tho' with wounds repeated pained, 
Still spirited his band. 

Oft did he lead them 'gainst the foe, 

Oft bleed in glorious strife ; 
But heaven forbade a fatal blow 

To end his precious life. 

All hope now lost but life to save, 

And fly impending doom ; 
To charge them thro' the word he gave, 

And gain their native home. 

Fierce, at the word, the men obey, 

And ev'ry danger dare. 
Thro' hostile crowds they hew their way, 

Made furious by despair I 

Thus bravely saved, their comrades joined, 
By numbers driven they flew ; 

The helpless children left behind 
The thirsty hatchet slew. 

There a poor woman ran from death. 

Her helpless babe she bore. 
Till tired at length and out of breath 

She could support no more — 

Its precious weight ; then, with a look. 
That spoke her breaking heart, 

She laid it down upon a block, 
And hastened to depart. 

A dreadful savage was at hand 

And clove its little head : 
She saw its blood disstain the land : 

With soul distracted fled. 



376 THE DEFEAT OP ST. CLAIR. 

Now had the savas^es pursued 

The victory in their hand, 
Not one American had viewed 

Again his native land. 

Their thirst of plunder saved the life 

Of many a wretch who ran, 
For plunder was their savage strife 

Which busied ev'ry man. 

The baggage seized, they next prepare 

To strip the gory dead ; 
But first with frightful ardor tear 

The scalp from evVy head. 

The helpless wounded who survey 

Their comrades' horrid fates, 
With the dire tomahawk they shy, 

On all like death awaits. 

So from the mountains rough with snows, 

Gaunt, hungry wolves descend, 
, To men and flocks unpitying foes, 
Their trembling prey they rend. 

Now drunk with joy, they laugh, they sing, 

O'er mangled bodies dance. 
And make the wide-spread forest ring 

With shouts and cruel taunts. 

Thus long as day its beams displayed, 
Sad carnage stained the light. 

E'en till in mantle black arrayed 
Appeared the gloomy night. 

Thou, who bidst the war to roar, 

Columbia's mourning hear ! 
x\h ! may her children's groans no more 

With horror strike the ear ! 

With thy strong hands her soldiers guide 

A great revenge to take, 
Till Indian blood the fields have dyed 

With many a crimson lake. 



MIAMI" — A MONODY. 377 

Till cooped within their proper bound, 

Their cruel swarms no more 
With flames our settlements surround 

And revel in our gore — 

Till Peace, the angel Peace, at length 
With outstretched wino:s appear ; 

And all the world Columbia's strength 
Shall know and known revere. 



i 
* General Richard Butler's combat with the Indians, 
after he was shot, gave such peculiar interest to his fate 
that a repi'esentation, of himself and the group sur- 
rounding hira, in wax figures, was exhibited throughout 
the United States. 



— 1791 — 

MIAMI— A MONODY. 



The following lines, under the title of "AMonody 
to the Memory of the Young Heroes who fell at the 
Miami, under General St. Clair,"' is by a contemporary 
»>ut unknown poet. 



Descend, bland Pity, from thy native sky. 
Come with thy moving plaint and melting eye : 
The Muses court thee from thy blessed abode, 
Thy throne of light embosomed in thy God ; 
With balmy voice the lurid tidings tell, 
How the brave bled — and how lamented fell: 
How, in the earliest pride of opening bloom, 
On houseless wilds demand a sheltering tomb. 
Far from the social tie, the kindred tear, 
Denied the relic'd urn, and trophied bier. 
In the deep horrors of the midnight shade. 
In the first onset dauntless valor made. 
Each youthful warrior wastes his rosy breath, 
And wooes stern honor, in the grasp of death ; 
Scarce seen to charm, just rising to applause, 
The blameless victim of a lubric cause. 



378 MfAMr — A MOIfODT. 



Torn like a plant beneath the early spring, 
When shiveriFHj: Eorus ffaps his fateful wieg. 

Ah ! say, what pirre Irbations can be paid", 
What fond atonement soothe the suffering ahade ? 
In vain from frozen age the waria tears flow, 
In vain bright beauty droops in clouds of woe, 
In vain the Zero's laureled wreaths decUae, 
In vain the minstrel swells the notes divine : 
They, who afar these bootless griefs deride, 
And stain the fair Ohio's flowery side, 
Who the wronged Indian's sea at j treasures spoil. 
Waste his weak hope, and strip his subject soil, 
And, like the rattling serpent of the heath, 
On the lone sleepers pour the darts of death. 
They must atone ; from themi the mourners claira 
Each loved associate and each treasured name ; 
Their cruel haads these desolatioDS spretid. 
Lost in their cause, each martyred hero bled ; 
Driven by their rage, the forest'^s children roam, 
And the lorn female wants a pitying home ; 
As if that wild which bounteous Heaven displays 
From orient Phoebus to his western rays. 
Spread its broad breast in vain ; to them denies 
The gifts which Nature's equal care supplies. 

Since thine own hills and widening vales demand 
The farming ploughshare and the laboring hand, 
Why must that hand pollute the ravaged heath, 
That culturing ploughshare wage the deeds of 

death ? 
Though wakening Reason join her forceful strain, 
Still shall dejected Mercy plead in vain ? 
Or shall Columbia hear the rude behest, 
And clasp her murderers to her bleeding breast? 
Shall she, with impious hand and ruffian knife, 
From her first offf^pring rend the cords of life ? 
To Nature's sons with tyrant rage deny 
The woody mountain and the covering sky ? 
Ah, no ! each sainted shade indignant bends, 
Bares his wide wounds, his reddening arm extends : 



THE (QRA^^E O^F CATFISH. oTQ 



lleturn, he cries, ere every hope is lost ; 

'Ohio claims you on liis osier coast : 

Keturo, though late ; the treacherous wish dr.s- 

claim, 
Awake (o justice, and aritie to fatDe ; 
.No more with blood the weeping soil defaoe, 
But fjpare the patient, suffering, w^arlike race. 
To you our lacerated spirits tmrn, 
From you demand a monumental urn.; 
For you our blushing wounds uncovered lie. 
Press the hard earth, and meet the bathing sky^ 
Where the sick nioon o'erveils her pallid brow. 
And the lone «iight-bird swells the |3eals of woe. 

Not crimson War, nor Valor's glittering wreath 
To the pale corse restores the quivering breath ; 
^Tis the mild power of seraph Peace alone 
€an charm each grief, and every wrong atone ; 
Her healing hand shall waft oblivion round. 
And pour hor opiates through each gushing wound, 
O'er the cold ghost the mantling olive spread^ 
And shade the sod which laps the glorious dead. 



— 1792? — 

THE GRAVE OF CATFISH. 



A local tradition — erroneously, but no matter — en - 
tombs the dust of Catfish beneath a large unhewn stone 
in a graveyard in Washington, Pennsylvania. This cel- 
ebrated Indian was a chieftain of the Kuskuskees — his 
Indian name being Tingoocqua; nnd as late as 1788, he 
lived in the neighborhood of Washington, the original 
name of which town was Catfish. He died in Ohio. The 
following stanzas by Hiram Kaine, a printer, are in ac- 
cord with the tradition. 



A fitting moDument was that 
For one so proud and stern — 

More striking than a marble bust 
Or consecrated urn ! 



380 THE GRAVE OF CATFISH. 

Unbending as that massive rock, 
Thou'st braved the battle storm, 

And reared amidst its fiercest shock 
Thy dark, majestic form. 

Thou needst not fear the pnle-face race, 

Who slumber by thy side ; 
They cannot tear the home from thee. 

Which living they denied. 

The unlettered stone above thy head 

Is not more still than they, 
The marble not more motionless 

That tells us where they lie. 

The rank green grass is twining 

Its wreath above thy head, 
As it ever richly twineth 

Round dwellings of the dead. 

Oh, does thy spirit ever come 

To gaze upon this mound. 
And tread upon the springing grass 

Above the hallowed ground ? 

Dost ever wander o'er the hills 
Where once thy tribe did roam, 

And curse the race who on their graves 
Have built themselves a home ? 

Thou hearest not, dark chieftain — 

Thy funeral song is sung. 
The emblems of thy power have flown, 

Thy last war-whoop hath rung. 

But yet thy name, by kindred ghosts, 

Is heard by yonder rill. 
As comes its murmuring midnight chime 

In echoes from the hill. 



THE WHISKEY INSURRECTION. 381 



— 1794 — 

TBE WHISKEY INSURRECTION. 



The following poem, as t!>e author, David Bruce, of 
JBurgeltstown, Washington county, —«, native, how- 
■ever, of Scotland, — has told us, in a note to his volume 
■of poems published in Washington, in 1801, wtis the first 
poem which he wrote und«r the oliaracterof the Scots- 
Irishman, *' in the year 1794, soon after the Whiskey In- 
•surreetion in the western counties of Pennsylvania^ 
where the a^athor then resided/' 



TO WHISKEY. 



•Great PowV, that warms tlie heart and liver. 
And puts the bluid a' in a fever, 
If. dull and heartless I am ever, 

A blast o' thee 
Makes me ns blythe, and brisk, aiad clever 

As 00 V bee, 

I watye are a cunning chiel, 
C a' your tricks I ken fu' weel, 
For aft ye hae gien me a heel, 

And thrown me down, 
When I shook hands wi' hearts so leal, 

Ye wily loun. 

When fou' o' thee on Irish grua', 
At fairs I've aft' had muckle fun, 
An' on my head wi' a guid rung, 

Gat mony a crack ; 
An' mony a braw chiel in my turn, 

Laid on his back. 

An' here, tho' sticks be laid aside, 
An' swankies fight in their bare hide ; 
Let me o' thee ance get a swig, 

I'll tak my part, 
An' bite and , gouge and tread 

Wi' a' my heart. 



382 TO WHISKEY. 



Great strength'ning pow'r, without thy aid 
How could log-heaps be ever made ? 
To tell the truth, I'm sair afraid, 

('Twixt ye and me,) 
We'd waot a place to lay our head, 

Hadn't been for thee. 



But when the chiels are fou' o' thee, 
Och ! how they gar their axes flee, 
Then God hae mercy on the tree, 

For they have nane. 
Ye'd think (the timber gaes so free) 

It rafe its lane.'*' 



Without thee how could grass be mawn ? 
Grain shcar'd, and into barnyards drawn ? 
An' when auld wives wi' faces thrawn 

Ly in the strae, 
I doubt, gin ye were nae at han', 

There'd be great wae. 



But it would tak a leaf and mair 
To tell o' a' your virtues rare ; 
At wedding, gossiping and fair, 

Baith great and sma' 
Look unco dowff if ye'r na there, 

Great soul o' a'. 



Then foul befa' the ungrateful diel 
That would begrudge to pay right weel 
For a' the blessings that ye yiel 

In sic a store ; 
I'd nae turn round upo' my heel 

For saxpence more. 



* The wood splits so freely, you'd think it would 
rive itself. 



ALEXANDER ADDISON. 383 



ro ALEXANDER ADDISON. 



To the Judge, whose charge to the jury in the trials 
t>f the insurrectionists is a magnificent monument to 
perpetuate his memory for many centuries to come, 
Mr. Bruce dedicated his volume of poems in the follow- 
ing stanzas. 



Tho' Brackenridge, an' sic like chiels, 
Wi' the wud rabble at their heels, 
Spit out at ye the spite o' diels, 

Ye need na care ; 
Ilk honest man your merit feels — 

What want ye mair ? 

Your mind, illum'd by Knowledge's ray, 

An' bent on usefu' purpose ay ; 

Your steady, plain, an' straight-on way 

Will leave a track ; 
For thera, when ance they've had their day, 

Nane need look back. 

Wi' little, groveling, selfish minds, 
Fu' o' low tricks, an' base designs, 
Their names will ne'er reach ither times ; 

Or, what still worse is, 
If e'er their mentioned for their crimes, 

'Twill be wi' curses. 

In days, when the auld Roman state 
Was hast'ning downward to its fate, 
Wi' just sic arts as hae o' late 

Come here in play ; 
By putting ilk thing good an' great 

Out o' the way — 

Wha flourish'd mair than Clodius then? 
He chiefs to provinces could send ; 
Consuls to him their heads did bend ; 

He made them a' ; 
For, wi' the Mob at's finger's end. 

He made the law. 



^84 ALEXANDER ADDISOW. 



But wha speaks well o' Clodius now ? 
While Citu's Dame, wha^ wi' sterD brow, 
Upriglit in virtue, oe'er would bow 

To court the herd, 
Will liveKjr ay, a' ages thro', 

Prais'd and rever'd. 

But I had maist forgot to meutioa 
That, which at first was my intentioD — 
Thir twa-three sangs o' my invention 

I here present ye -^ 
^Bout them I hae nae apprehension, 

Should they content ye. 

It's praise by men like ye bestow'd, 
Wha can distinguish brass from gowd, 
O' which true merit should be proud — 

That's lasting fame : 
The noisy clattering o*^ the crowd 

Can gie no name. 

Merit; wi' them's no worth the keeping ; 
Folly aft gets it, while he's sleeping ; 
Pert, blethering Dullness, Genius meeting, 

Aft turns him out ; 
An' splendid Guilt, wi' bluid a dreeping. 

Gets aft their shout. 

Lat itbers tell them stories fause, 
For oflSce green, wi' hankering maws. 
An' strive to please them wi' their laws 

For to get in ; 
Ye'll never judge to gain their 'plause. 

Nor will I sing. 

Thac sangs are written in the phrase 
Our forbears spake in ither days — 
Douce, honest carls ! on their braes 

They liv'd fu' snug, 
Wi' sober, simple, peacefu' ways. 

An' toom'd their cogg. 



TO H. H. BRACKENRIDGE. 385 

They had ua heard o' Tamas Paine; 

An' a' the diabolic train 

His jiiinciples hae brought on men : 

They paid their rent ; 
An' finding ilk thing else their ain, 

They were content. 

May Ji' their bairns, whare'er they be. 
On this or tither side the sea, 
Subject or citizen, (sae they're free 

It is a' ane,) 
Wi' settled minds, live peacefulie, 

Like them at hame. 

An' when your enemies hae gaen 
To that black hole was made by Sin, 
May ye your honor'd seat maintain 

Right to dispense, 
Wi' mind, discriminating keen, 

An' manly ?ense. 



TO H. H. BRACKENRIDGE. 



In an address to this distinguished gentleman^ 
whose conduct in the Whiskey Insurrection was so 
♦equivocal, as to render him suspected by the govern- 
ment, and in whose exculpation he published in 1795, a 
book entitled "Incidents of the Western Insurrection 
of 1794," the Bard of Burgettstown makes the following 
Hllusion — 



When Whiskey-Boys sedition sang, 
An' anarchy strod owre the Ian', 
When Folly led Rebellion's ban', 

Sae fierce an' doure, 
Folks said ye sleely lent a han' 

To mak the stoure. 

But ye soon pat it in a beuk. 

An' tauld us how, by heuk and cruik, 

Yq wark't upo' the rabble-rout, 

To do your biddin', 



386 TO ALEX. F. DALLAS. 

An' clear'd yoursel' frae ilka doubt, 

As clean's a ribban'. 



TO ALEXANDER F. DALLAS. 



To Alexander F. Dallas, the counsel for the prisoners 
in the Federal Circuit Court at Philadelphia, he makes 
this reference, in his address " To My Musie "— 



Or wi' a stock o* impudence, 

An' my sma' share o' lear an' sense, 

I might been pleading 'fore a bench, 

Like flimsy D[allas,] 
His brother rogues, wi' lame defence, 

To save Frae gallows. 



A CANNY WORD. 



In an address to the Democrats of the West. Bruce 
refers to the Whiskey Insurrection, as follows. 



When, anoe, about Whiskey, 

Ye a' gat sae crusty, 
An' swore ye'd na pay for a drap ; 

I leav't to yoursel's, 

(Gif you're na sham'd) to tell's, 
What the deil ye wad then a' be at. 

Ye loupt like mad nowt, 

An' bawl'd an' cried out, 
" Nae funding, excise," an' a' that, 

An' swore that the law 

Was a' done awa — 
The verra thing ye wad be at. 

But bark ye now, billies ! 

( Howe'er guid your will is ) 
The weakest, ye ken, maun fa' back ; 

Gif the states sen' agen 

Twal' thousan' arm'd men, 
It maks na what deil ye'd be at. 



WHISKEY, 387 



— 1791 — 

WHISKEY. 



In reply lo David Bruce's address "To Wiiiskuy," ou 
page 381, Hugh Henry Brackenridge, a distinguished 
lawyer and politician of Pittsburgh, and a voluminous 
writer in prose and verse, published the following. The 
part wliich Brackenridge took in the Whiskey Insur- 
rection gives a peculiar interest to this poem — lie, in 
the opinion of many, having been guilty himself of the 
sedition with which he charges Bruce. 



Your rouse* rins glib thro' a my veins ; 

I find it at my finger en's: 

An' but a gouk that has nae brains, 

Wad it deny, 
Tbat mony a time, baith wit and sense 

If can supply. 

Far better than the drink ca'd wine ; 
Wi' me compar'd 'tis wash for swine ; 
Ae gill is just as guid as nine, 

And fills as fou' ; 
It is nae very long sinsyne. 

Ye prov'd it true. 

That time ye made sae muckle noise, 
About the tax they ca' Excise ; 
And got ihe name o' Whiskey Boys, 

Frae laland glakes ; 
That cam' sae far, nae verra wise, 

To gie ye paikes. 

Tho' I may say't amang oursefs. 

Ye gaed o'er far wi' your pelmells. 

On N[eville] J and the gauger W[ells,] || 

And ither louns. 
Far better ye had drank your gills, 

And eat your scons. 



388 WHISKEY. 



It was a kittle thing to take 
The government sae by the ueck, 
To thrapple everything and break 

Down rule and laws ; 
And make the public ship a wreck, 

Without guid cause. 

'Twere safer ye had tulzied here, 
Wi' chiels that dinna muckle care 
To gouge a wee bit, or pu' hair, 

And no complain ; 
But a' the tugs and rugings bear. 

Or let alane. 

The warst is, but to get a lesson, 
If some ane puis ye i' the session, 
To take a prie o' spiritual sneeshiu 

Frae J[ohn] McM[illan,]§ 
Wha'l say o'er ye a backward blissing, 

When ye're nae willing. 

But wha'ist o' ye mak's the verse, 
Sae very kittle and sae terse, 
That in the Gazzat gies me praise ? 

They say 'tis Bruce ; 
I canna half sae weel rehearse : 

Tak' my excuse. 

I'm mair among unletter'd jocks 

Than well-lear'd doctors wi' their buiks ; 

Academies and college nuiks 

I dinna ken ; 
x\nd seldom wi' but kintra folks, 

Hae I been benn. 

Ye canna then expect a phrase. 
Like them ye get in poets' lays ; 
For Where's the man that how-a-days, 

Can sing like Burns, 
Whom Nature taught her ain strathspreys, 

And now she mourns. 



TO ALBERT <GALLATTN. 389 



I dinna like to sign my naoje, 

Hy that (>' Whiskey, fie for shame 1 

I had a better ane at hame ; 

In towfi or city. 
Where u w^re glaiJ to *iet a dram 

O' Aqua Vit.e. 



=^- Rouse, praise. f Tlmt is. Whiskey, 

X General John Neville, the chief inspector of Wes^ 
tern Pennsylvania, See pages 78, 86. 

II Benjamin Wells, the collector of Fayette county, 
&nd John Wells, the collector of Westmoreland. 

g That is, to take a pinch of spiritual snufiT from the 
lieverend John McMillan — of whom, see Joseph 
smiths Old Redstone and History of JefTerson College, 



— 1798 — 

TO ALBERT GALLATIN. 



The tollowing, from the pen of David Bruce, was 
written immediately after Gallatin's third election. 
Iraliatin played a consi)icuous part in Southwestern 
Pennsylvania, in the last decade of the Eighteenth cen- 
tury. His residence of stone, at New Geneva, on the 
Monongahela, is still in a good state of preservation. In 
1786, or thereabout, in associatio)i with several others, he 
"Erected the first glass works west of the Alleghany 
Mountains, 



Great Sir, for none can doubt your claim 

To that appendage to your name, 

If greatness lies in being first 

On popular election list ; 

But as wise men sometimes dispute it, 

I will not here say much about it, 

But leave to your own calculation 

To fix the scale of reputation, 

And find the diff'rence 'twixt fair fame 

And th' ill-got " whistling of a name." 

The Muse, with gratulation fit, 
Hails you, on your third tribuneship.* 



390 TO ALBERT GA.LLATIN. 

! may your fortune be more happy, 
Than what befell the Roman Gracchi. 
Like you, they did their best endeavor 
To make the public balance waver. 
By throwing weights i' th' pop'lar side. 
Because they could make better by't. 
(For things being weiiih'd in even scale. 
And distributed in just tale, 
To each his due proportion nicking,f 
A demagogue can get no picking.) 
They strove, like you, with artful speech. 
To set the poor a^^ainst the rich. 
Like you, they agitated laws, 
To gain the popular applause ; 
Agrarian laws, and equalizing. 
Men's properties and rights all sizing — 
To take the land, the public stock, J 
And give't, for God's sake, to poor folk : 
The general interest of the whole 
Being far beneath a liberal soul . 
Like them, your motive is, you own. 
To keep th' Aristocracy down ; 
But their's had real life and action, 
Your's but the mere bugbear of faction. 

But, Sir, (if I may be so bold,) 
The likeness won't in all points hold. 
The generous Gracchi, tho' they wish'd, 
At home, 'mong Romans, to be first. 
When foreign foes, with haughty threat, 
Dar'd to insult the Roman state, 
They never carried factious zeal, 
To th' injury of the commonweal : 
They never taught degrading maxims, 
The vile resort of sinking factions, 
That "national interest is honor," 
And **»**, " the weak ^^"""^^ yield ** '^^ stronger 
That " states, to save some paltry pence, 
Ought not to arm in just defence ; " 
And " peace a blessing is so great. 
It should be had at any rate." 



TO ALBERT GALLATIN. 391 

No, Sir, they felt the public wrong, 
Their country's cause they made their own. 
And boldly on th' embattled plain, 
Fought to advance the Roman name. 

Should any one at me enquire, 
Why you're unlike this gallant pair 
In this one point ? I'd answer this, 
They Romans were, and you — a Swiss !|| 

But, what I wanted most to say. 

Was something 'bout La Liberte. 

I mean not, Sir, that sober matron, 

In home«pun gown and plain white apron. 

Whoni Jefferson, in reverie frantic. 

Saw, once, '"^^ Britain •• cross th' Atlantic, "§ 

Scar'd off (Alas ! it should alarm us,) 

By taxes, debts, and fleets and armies. 

No, no ; I mean that fine French lady, 

Of whom, they say, Voltaire was daddy, 

Dry-nurs'd'knd fondled in the straw, 

Like Gripsy's brat by Jean Rousseau. 

Her Orleans' Duke brought up to court, 

And kept for profit, more than sport ; 

But Madame often took a caper 

With Sieyes, and Mirabeau, and Necker, 

And sometimes had a tete-a-tete 

With our American Fayette. 

Till, going 'mong the lower gentry, 

She danced in every lane and entry 

The Carmagnole with Sans-Culottes, 

Or took a game at cutting throats ; 

And often, as she took the notion, 

Would go to Place de Revolution, 

And see her lovers, with great pleasure. 

Completely shav'd with national razor :^ 

At length, with murder, rapine, pillage. 

She rioted in every village. 

Drove off the just, the wise, the good, 

And made the country red with blood. 



392 TO ALBERT GALLATINT. 



Some say, this lady cross'd the sea, 
With French Ambassador Genet, 
And that a certain factious party 
Did give the jade a welcome hearty, 
The' Washington at her reception, 
Frown'd sternly, and deny'd protection. 
But, since of late, the nymph's supporters 
Begin to fail her on all quarters, 
She has, they say, to you come weeping, 
And you have ta^en her into keeping. 

Then keep her, Sir ; restrain her roaming, 
We do not want her to be common. 
For us, we'd rather entertain 
The decent, chaste, and modest dame. 
Whom Jeiferson saw in his dream. 



* This was written immediately after Gallatin*s 
third election to a seat in Congress, in 1798. 

t Allnding to the practice of keeping tallies by 
nofchetl sticks. 

t The elder Gracchus proposed a«law to divide the 
<-()nqnered lands among the poor. 

;; Gallatin was born and educated in Geneva: hence 
tliename of New Geneva, his residence on the Monon- 
^rahela. Bruce seems to take delight in hitting the Hes- 
sians and other mercenary soldiers of Germany over the 
shoulder of Gallatin. 

§ Thomas Jefferson, in his "Notes on Virginia," 
speaking of Great Britain, says, "Her liberty has 
crossed the AtlaHtic." 

*i The Guillotine, so called by tbo facetious French. 



Bruce refers to Gallatin quite frequently in his po- 
ems — in his address to Brackenridge, as follows. 



A story. Lad, begins to rin, 

That you're owre great wi' Gallatin, 

The wily Frenchman, 
And that again to put him in 

Is your intention. 



DEMOCRATIC DOGGEREL. 393 



Ye ken this slee, auld-farran knave 
Has <:;ien the government a heave, 
Wi' intent to throw it i' the grave 

0' mobbish ruin, 
That he an' Willie Thrum* might weave 

A braw French new ane. 

Ye ken how, wi' ilk art an' shift, 
He excused French robbery an' theft, 
An', wi' his will, wad let nane lift 

A han' again 'em, 
But rdther wad gie them a gift. 

Than strive to restrain 'em. 

Gif sic a man be sent again 
Whare he can put his pl.»ls in train. 
To set (which ay has been his aim) 

The mob a madding; 
What pledge hae honest peacefu' men 

For house or hauding ? 



William Findiey was a weaver by trade. 

— 1799 — 

DEMOCRATIC DOGGEREL. 



From the Recollections of James B. Oliver, publish- 
ed in F'rauk Cowan's Paper in April, 1874, the following 
extract is taken — 



The election of 1799 was very exciting. This was 
about the beginning of politics in this country. Brack- 
enridge was a very fiery Democrat. He wrote burlesque 
poetry on almost every prominent Federal candidate. 
I can recollect some of his verses to this day. 

Tom Collins down 

From Wilkin's town 
Came to the crowd's assistance ; 

The little rogue 

With Dublin brogue, 
He grinned and drew his fist once. 



BIM DEMOCRATIC DOGGEREL. 

Steel Sample stood 

That man of blood 
With that slim thing his student ; 

Prepare, says he, 

I clearly see, 
This meeting has no good in'^t. 

An Oli-ver 

Also was there — 
Not Cromwell for he's dead — 

He wasn't warm 

And did no harm, 
Slipped home and went to bed. 

This referred to Oliver Ormsby, one of the first set- 
tU^rs of Pittsburgh, and not to any of the Oliver family, 

A pistol broke 

Without a lock, 
Was seized by Andrew Willock 

Who swore he'd shoot down 

Some man of the town. 
Or he would have some ill luck. 

There was a good deal more of this doggerel, but I 
cannot recollect it. The Democratic party was .success- 
ful that Fall. 



Yes, the Democratic party was successful, and 
Hrackenridge was rewarded for his services with a seat 
on the Supreme Bench of Pennsylvania, to the di.sgust 
of Bruce, causing him to exclaim — 

It's unco fine to see your wit. 

Adorning Israel's filthy sheet ;* ^ 

What's worse — waes me, that I should see it ! — 

My Brackie's Muse ! 
Tuning her dainty, winsome reed, 

For sic a use! 



* The Herald of Liberty, published by .John Israel, 
Jit Washington, Pennsylvania. 



THE WORTHIES. 295 



— 1801 — 

A A' h: VIEW OF THE WORTBIES. 



BY DA VID BRUCE. 



Fir.st comes [McKeau,]* a mighty name. 

For i?kill in war, an' law, man. 
Wham sovereign mob, wi' awfu' nod. 

Has set aboon us a', man, 
0' politics he kens the tricks. 

As a' his actions shaw, man : 
He cares na whither, this side or tither- 

Sae he can hit the ba', man. 

There's D[alla8,]-j- now, wi' actor's bow- 

Sae showy an' sae braw, man, 
Wi' frothy scum, an' sleek it tongue, 

He far outshines them a', man. 
He has in's han' a speech for Tam, 

Or some report o' law, man — 
Na, na — speak saft I It is a draft 

He means on France to draw. man. 

.Now, honest folks 1 here comes T[ench] C[ux,];|; 

He stately walks awa', man, 
As ance. wi' piide, by the warrior's side, 

In Ph[ila]d[elphi] a, man. 
Ane greater now than Willy H[owe,] 1| 

C[ox] to his friends can shaw, man ; 
Ilk ither name to Tam [McKean], 

For warlike deeds looks sma', man. 

Now F[indley]§ comes, a man o' thruu^s. 

He's thrown his pirns awa', man, 
His loom, an' gears, an' creeshie wares, 

An's ta'en to making law, man ; 
But were this Ian' rul'd on his plan. 

We'd now be at the wa', man ; 
Or had, at best, a ravel'd hesp, 

At which to tu£f an' draw, man. 



396 THE WORTHIES. 



Here's G[allatin,]^ wha ance did sin. 

The government to thraw, man, 
Yet this eonfest, still does his best 

Fierce discord's coal to blaw, man. 
Wi' foreign twang, an' reasons wrang. 

He keeps an unco jaw, man ; 
An' says, to fight for national right 

Nae honour is ava, man. 

Wha hae we here? It's Brack,*'*' I swear! 

A name that was na sma', man, 
A man o' fun, the Muse's son, 

He bore a great eclat, man. 
But och ! what pity, that wise an" witty 

Together seldom draw, man ! 
Wi' winding cruiks, thro' holes an' nuik.s. 

His credit's run awa', man. 

That wizzened shape ! Is it an ape, 

Or something stufiFed with straw, man ? 
It's crest it cocks, an' has a vox^ 

Ut nil preterea, man. 
But I maun tell ye, it's J[ohnny] S[milie],tt 

A lad can fight them a', man, 
Wi' mob at heels, he'll gar the chiels 

Vote right, or run awa', man. 

Here's Willy [Hoge],JJ a name in vogue, 

Amang the lower raw, man, 
An honest man,wi' notions wrang, 

'Bout liberty an' law, man. 
Sic is the thirst o' being first, 

Which burns in some folks' maw, man, 
That first in kitchen is mair bewitching 

Than equal in the ha', man. 

Sure ye hae heard o' Absy [Baird] |||| 

Ane skilled in pill an' sa', man, 
Tho' it is said, to ply his trade 

He is a wee thins; slaw, man ; 



THE WORTHIES. 391 



But lie^s the chap can turn the caup, 
An' round the bicker ca', man — 

He'll drink an' smoke, an' gain a vote 
Wi' ony o' them a', man. 

Amanjj; the lave, here's Sleejy Dave,§§ 

Tho' hindmost in the raw, man ; 
Yet he's the wi^ht, wha has the sleight 

The giddy herd to ca\ man. 
In his back room, they under thunib 

Their wheedling projects dravr, man, 
He an' his gang, Jem, Jack, and Tani, 

An' printing Jack,^^[ an' a' man. 

If I had time, or could find rhyme 

Their characters to draw, man, 
There's mony mair o' Worthies rare 

In Pennsylvania, man. 
I hope these few, I've brought in view, 

When we're dead and awa', man, 
In this my sang, may, fliiurish lang, 

Vivat Respuhlico, man. 



* Tlionias McKean, Governor of Pennsylvania. 

t Alexander F. Dallas, Secretary of the Common- 
wealth of Pennsylvania. 

X Tench Cox, a prominent turn-coat of the times. 

II Sir William Howe, the British General, whom Cox 
is said to have accompanied in his triumphal entry in- 
to Philadelphia. 

I William Findley, the first Member of Congress from 
Westttioreland. and the author of a History of the 
Whiskey Insurrection in which he played a conspicu- 
ous part. 

1i Albert Gallatin, also a participant in the Wliiskey 
Insurrection, afterward Secretary of the Treasury of the 
United States. 

** H. H. Brackenridge, of whose talents Bruce had a 
high opinion. 

ft Tohn Smilie, Member of Congress from Fayette 
county. "This gentleman has been an actor in the po- 
litical scene, since the Revolution, like his compeer 
Findley ; but has been brought into notice by the exer- 
else of far less substantial talents. His chief faculty is 



398 THE INDIAN CHIEF. 



loquacity, and a facility of making popular harangues ; 
together with the art of all demagogues, of going along 
with the inclinations and humors of the multitude, so 
that by seeming to follow they may lead." — Bruce. 

JJ William Hoge, " a man of understanding, but of 
strong and unconquerable prepossessions."— Bruce. 

nil Dr.^bsolom Baird. 

g§ David Acheson, an Irishman sent to the legisla- 
ture from Washington countj' before he was naturalized 
and obliged to vacate his seat. From his slow and de- 
liberative appeax-ance, mistaken for stupidity, he re- 
ceived the soubriquet of "Sleepy Dave." Bruce refers 
to him in another poem — 

Perhaps the legislative D <ve 
Dosing owre projects deep an' grave, 
His drowsy head frae sleep to save 

Has ta'en a start, 
An' sung a wild discordant stave 

To th' Irish Harp, 
Tf^ John Israel, the publisher of the Herald of Liber- 
ty, at Washington. 



- 1804 — 

THE INDIAN CHIEF. 



Tliat it may serve no other end than just a icind 
memento of Sally Hastings* — the "warbler" of Wash- 
ington county three quarters of a century ago, I include 
in this collection the following poem from her facile 
pen, "The Indian Chief: A True Story: The circum- 
stances took place in the year 1804" — which, in detail, 
the curious reader will find in the fifth chapter of David 
Elliott's Life of Elisha Macurdy, published in A.lleghen y 
in 1848. 



See, lowly bendino on his knees 

Wiandot's warlike chief,f 
With anxious doubts disturbed, he prays. 

And pours forth all his grief. 

Sick, and opprest with pains and scars, 

He bows before the throne, 
And there unburdens all his cares. 

To Grod (tho' loved) unknown. 



THE INDIAN CHIEF. 399 



"O thou, great Spirit, from on high. 

Look down, I thee implore; 
Instruct my heart, direct my way, 

And guide me evermore. 

" Shali I the darling of my breast, 

My infant son resign ; 
And leave him in a land of Christ, 

With ministers of thine? 

" And wilt thou him a Christian raise, 

A minister to be. 
That he may come and preach thy grace. 

To his own tribe and me? 

• O Spirit good, thy high decree 

And great design impart; 
If this thy will, heal thou me, 

And euse my troubled heart." 

The Grod of Mercy, from on high, 

Regarding his request, 
" Looked down, with pity's sofcest eye," 

And eased his lab'ring breast. 

Three times he prayed, "0 Spirit good, 
Where shall I leave my son ? 

To speed my feet, mark out my road. 
Send thine own angel down. " 

His suit was heard, and mercy moved 

Th' eternal Father's breast, 
To send an angel, whom he loved. 

To guide, and give him rest. 

The mother's screams and wild distress, 
Unmoved, the warrior hears ; 

And, thro' the lonely wilderness, 
His smiling infant bears. 

And o'er Ohio's silver flood 

The savage hero hies ; 
And there, unto the Christian's God, 

Consigns the blooming prize. 



-too THE INDIAN OIIIEF. 



'Twas here, in presbyt'ry combined, 

The ministers of God, 
A solemn court in council joined, 

To spread his Word abroad : 

When, from Sandusky's distant plains, 
The crallant chief draws near ; 

And in his graceful arms sustains 
His infant son, most dear. 

'' Hail ! fathers, brothers, God has taught 

His truth and grace to yoa : 
To you ray only son I've brought, 

That He may teach him too. 

'^ Say, will you take my little boy ; 

Will you his father be ; 
And hiua instruct and qualify. 

To come and preach to me ? 

'• Will you him guide, instruct, and guard^ 

With strict impartial care ; 
From evil company retard, 

And ev'ry sinful snare ? " 

" Yes, brother ; we with joy indeed 

This tender pledge receive : 
We will him clothe, instruct, and feed — 

Grace, only God can give." 

" Will you then pray the God you love, 

To grant him grace divine. 
And ev'ry gift ; each want remove ; 

To ev'ry good incline ? " 

'' This we will do," consents each one, 

" And with parental care, 
We will regard your little son, 

And intercede, by prayer — 

" With God, who faithful is, and true, 
And hears his children's cries, 

That he will graciously, from you, 
Accept this sacrifice." 



THE INDIAN CHIEF. 401 

Well pleased, the grateful chief bestows 

The off'riug of his heart — 
A manly tear his cheek bedews, 

As he prepares to part. 

Low bending o'er his son asleep, 

He pours a parting prayer ; 
While, in his breast, alternate weep 

Love, gratitude, and care. 

"Farewell, my son," the warrior cries, 

"My son I dearly love : 
If we ne'er meet below the skies, 

I trust we'll meet above." 

Now joy and admiration share. 

Alternate, ev'ry breast ; 
And in the good Macurdy's care, 

They place their infant guest. 

The little prattler's op'ning charms 

His leisure time employs : 
He in fair Mira's fost'ring arms, 

A mother's care enjoys. 

See how heav'n's condescending King 

Did grant the savage prayer 
Of noble Barnet, and did bring 

His son in safety here. 

Will not each heart, that loves his grace, 

Join in this sweet request ; 
That he will raise Sandusky's race, 

Sandusky's chief will bless ? 

Grant him thy Spirit, our God ! 

Thy healing power do show ; 
And purify, thro' pard'ning blood, 

Himself and people too. 



* Different Poems : To which is added a Descriptive 
Account of a Family Tour to the West in the year 1800, 
in a Letter to a Lady: By Sally Hastings. Lancaster: 
Printed and sold by William Dickson : The Benefit of 



402 PLEASAxXT OHIO; 



the Authoress: 1808. In her address "'to Critics," she- 
styles herself " the little warbler." 

t This Indian went by the name of Bamet — his son- 
John Barnet. The Indian name of the pious father was- 
lJTn.unqua. signifying Flyiiig Arro-Vi«. 

— 1B04 — 

PLEASANT OHIO. 



In 18Wv a cotnpanj' was formed at Granville. Massa- 
chusetts, with the intention of making a settlement in 
the state of Ohio. The project met with great favor and' 
wiucb enthusiasm was elicited. The following stanzas- 
Hre from, a song of the day to further the project. 



When rambling o'er these moitntaiR*^ 

And rocks, where ivies grow 
Thick us the hairs upon youp bead, 

'Mongst which you cannot go \ 
llreat storms of snmv, cold winds that bloWy 

We scarce can undergo ; 
8ays I, my boys, we'll leave this place 

For the pleasant Ohio. 

Our precious friends that stay behiMl^ 

We're sorry now to leave \ 
But if they'll stay and break their shinSy 

For them we'll never grieve ; 
Adieu, my friends ! come on my dears. 

This journey we'll not forego, 
And we will settle Licking Creek, 

In yonder pleasant Ohio. 



— 1810 — 

POLLY WILLIAMS. 



The following ballad was written by Samuel Little, 
ol Fayette county, soon after the murder of Polly Wil- 
liams, May 12th, 1810. It has been published several 
times in the local newspapers, and with many varia- 
tions from the text here given, by A. F. Hill, in his 



'P01.lt WlXLlASiS. 4'03 



mov«l "TJie White Rocks, or The Robber's Pen," ta 
which the Reader is referred for an admirable expres- 
sion or the effect which the tragedy had upon the people 
of the neighborhood. The crudities of the following 
version, from a pamphlet published in Uniontown, 
•about lorty years ago, commend its preservation if for 
no other reason than thut of 'comparison with Mr. Hill's 
revision. Mr. Little was present when the body of the 
murdered woman was removed from the base of the 
White Rocks, ^nd deposited in a grave at the foot of the 
anountain. 



A lily once full by a mower's rude prowei«s, 

Lambs perished while lieking the murderer's 
bauds; 
A sweet, blooming virgin was slaia by her lover^ 
While waiting for transport in Hymen's soft 
baods. 

i^oug rains swelled the rivers, bla<3k clouds hid the 
mountains, 
The vales lay enveloped in misty array ; 
1 climbed the wet hills, nnd. with heart-rending 
liorror. 
Surveyed the sad spot where all mangled she 
lay. 

Orini rose the huge rocks niid deep sunk were the 
caverns,; . # 
Witli thorns and keen briars the place was o'er- 
grown ; 
Above, the dark brow of the mountain stood 
frowning, 
In the valley sad midnight had built her dark 
throne. 

Sweet girl, 'twas too rude for thy nuptial chamber, 
Was it meet that a bride on the cold ground 
should lay ? 
That the howling of wolves and the screams of 
the panther 
Should furnish the songs of thy nuptial day? 



404 POLLY WILLIAMS. 

How long did'st thou toil up the steep, rugged 
mountain ? 
How weary, how fainting thy delicate frame ? 
Yet fond hope still cheered thee, the moment ap- 
proaching 
To crown thy best hopes and to banish all 
shame. 

kSay, when did wild gasping succeed to fond toy- 
ing? 
Ah, when did'st thou find the extent of thy 
woes ? 
When did the fond lover transform to a demon ? 
His purpose accursed how could he disclose ? 

I see thee all pale and all trembling before him — 
I hear thy entreaties — thy heart-piercing 
cries ; 
But poor lonely victim ! no helper was near 
thee — 
No father — no mother, to answer thy sighs. 

The conflict begins, his hands are uplifted ; 

I see thy blood streaming — thy screams are 
in vain — 
Rough rocks will not hear thee, his heart is still 
harder — 
'Twas ad'mant from hell that composM his 
frame. 

Those fair eyes so lately with tenderness beaming 
Now roll with wild horror and smart with keen 
pain; 

And soon, very soon, will be closed up forever — 
No sun of to-morrow will greet them again. 

At thy wide-gaping wounds thy poor spirit waits 
fluttering — 
A path all unknown she must quickly pursue ; 
A faint, a last sigh from thy bursting heart whis- 
pered, 
"Poor traitor! poor murderer! I bid thee 
adieu ! " 



POLLY WILLIAMS. 40B 

Ye rocks, ye were marble, or sure you'd have 
melted ; 
But with the cHrs'd traitor ye too were com- 
bined, 
Though stained with their heart's blood ya still 
stand relentless ; 
Betrayed and des&rted, no friend could she 
find. 

Ye caverns that groaned whe« her heartstriBcrg 
were breaking, ° 

Could not you concealed the poor tortured fair *? 
Or your grim jaws expanding have seized her tor- 
mentor 
And plunged his black soul to eternal despair? 

And where slept the thuader, the lightning's red 
anger? 
Could no friendly genius have darted it down ? 
Had heaven forgot to be present in danger, 

When lovers proved murderers and helpers 
were gone ? 

Still groan, ye deep caverns ! Still shriek ye dark 
alleys! 
Let the lost murderer witness, who near you 
shall stray, 
The long-lengthened anguish, the soul-rending 
tortures 
That closed the sad eve of her nuptial day. 

Poor injured spirit, thy murderer is living — 
For Justice, grown weary, forbore to pursue ; 

By lawyers defended, by jurors acquitted, 
His presence detested still tortures our view. 

If justice on earth is too often perverted, 
If lawyers can rescue the worst of mankind ; 

The great Court of Heaven is not to be bribed — 
There poor injured innocence a refuge can find. 



4j06 POLLY WILLIAMS. 



'Twas piteous, poor Polly, that strangers' rude 
shoulders 
Through thickets should bear thee down to thy 
long home, 
Rough pines of the mountain thy soft limbs sup- 
porting, 
And no gentle relative weep at thy tomb, 

'Twas the cold hand of strangers that placed thy 
death pillow. 
That closed thy sunk eyes and thy winding- 
sheet gave ; 
No friend stood around thee to sing a soft re- 
quiem. 
No tear of a parent to soften thy grave. 

Ye spirits that sit round the grave of the mur- 
dered, 
Each evening chant forth her unparalleled 
woes! 
Ye cold clods that hide her, lie light on her bo- 
som — 
Once torn by rough rocks, thy soft flesh asks 
repose. 

Sweet sufferer, sleep on ! and may heaven protect 
thee ! 
May angels sit watching thy innocent clay. 
Till the last trumpet sounds, and thy soft slum- 
bers breaking 
Calls thee home to the realms of ineffable day. 



— 1810 — 

THE MURDER OF POLLY WILLIAMS 



BY A. F. HILL. 



The sun is glowing at the close of day, 
Bathing the landscape with celestial fire ; 

The earth is decked with all the flowers of May, 
And hills and dales smile in their fresh attire. 



POLLY WILLIAMS. 407 



The munntains rear their lofty heads on high — 
They too, are clad with foliage fresh and green — 

As though they fain would kiss the azure sky, 
x\nd thus add grace of action to the scene. 

The evening air is pleasant, calm and still ; 

No sighing breeze or tender zephyr blows 
Against the face of the ascending hill. 

To stir the wild- vine or the mountain rose. 

Half hid among the trees, full many a cliff 
Clings to the mountain side ; but there is one 

That rises far above the rest, as if 

To catch the last rays of the setting sun. 

So high it towers, that, from its lofty crest, 
Full thirty miles of rolling hills are seen, 

All in the pleasant garb of spring-tide dressed ; 
And many vales that, sleeping, lie between. 

What quiet reigns ! the air how soft and mild ; 

The old gray rocks how silent and how grave; 
How motionless the vines and bushes wild ; 

The trees how still, their branches do not wave. 

But hark ! what piercing scream breaks on the 
air 

From yonder cliff that rears so high its crest ? 
What dread, what danger, or what pain is there? 

What mortal so affrighted or distressed ? 

Or was it but a panther on the height. 
That shrieked so like a human in dismay ? 

Did it but call a comrade for the night. 
To go and seek some unsuspecting prey ? 

Hark ! 'tis repeated ! 'tis a human shriek ! 

A maiden's voice ! — it calls aloud in fear ! 
What danger threatens ? What aid does she seek ? 

Or who is there in this wild place to hear ? 

Do prowling wolves come swift upon her track, 
Emboldened by the near approach of night ? 



408 POLLY WILLIASTS. 



And does she, to avert the mad attack, 
Flee'to the sua>raii oi the locky height? 

Ah. no ! Behold a more vincJictive foe — 
A murderer ! she struggles in his grasp ; 

He fain would hurl her to the ground below ; 
But still she shyieks, and clings with frantic- 
clasp. 

He heeds her not — her prayers are all in vain ; 

His soul is helli?h fire — his heart is stone ;. 
His rude band thrusts her to the brink again : 

She shrieks and falls, and now the deed is donc- 

At such a deed, the blushing orb of day 
Covers his face behind a western hill, 

As if, indeed, ashamed to longer stay, 

And gaze on acts so dreadful, base and ilL 

The murderer flees, his soul beset with fear ; 

He starts away amid the gathering night ; 
His deed is seen, avenging hands are near; 

They swift pursue him in his hasty flight. 

They've gone — the murderer and avengers too : 
He rushes dovr n the mountain like the wind ; 

On wings of vengeance, they as swift pursue, 
And leave the solemn scene of death behind. 

Where yonder cliff" arises, draw thou near ; 

In awe, remove the covering from thy head ; 
]3e grave and thoughtful — drop a silent tear, 

Thou standest in the presence of the dead. 

There lies the body, lifeless, bruised and torn ; 

The soul has barely winged its flight away : 
The wild-vines sigh, the rude rocks laugh in scorn, 

At such a helpless, useless lump of clay. 

80 beautiful a single hour ago ; 

So full of life — the home of sense and light : 
But ah, how dull, how dumb and lifeless now ; 

How changed in looks, how ghastly to the sight. 



POLLY WILLIAMS. 409 

Ah, maiden, what infituating dream 

Hath brought thee here to meet the murderer's 
wrath ? 
Did some impatient friend across the stream 

Direct thy foot-steps up the mountain path ? 

Was there a beckon from an unseen hand ? 

A noiseless whisper from a silent breath ? — 
To call thy spirit from the lower land, 

An4 urge thy body to untimely death ? 

Oh, stand aside, impenetrable veil ! 

That hides the land of shadows from our sight ! 
Oh, let us see the waiting friends that hail 

The maiden's spirit in its upward flight ! 

Ah, could we see the liberated soul 
Enter the portals of the land above, 

Received by waiting parents at the goal, 
And clasped iu arms of everlasting love ! 

Then might we turn, without a single tear, 
And fix our gaze on the deserted clay : 

The picture of the spirit's heavenly cheer 
Would surely drive the earthly gloom away. 

Let not the tender form lie here to-night ; 

Let not the pale cheek catch the falling dew : 
The mournful owl is screaming on the height. 

As though himself were filled with sorrow too. 

The veil of night is falling thick and fast ; 

The glow-worm dances on the mountain side ; 
On stealthy wings, the bat goes flitting past ; 

The whippoorwill is chattering far and wide. 

May not some hungry wolf scent from afar 
Those drops of blood that sprinkle the white 
face? 

And steal up in the darkness to devour 

The helpless form once full of life and grace ? 



^10 beaver's boots. 

Shall flesh like this feed savap:e beasts of prey, 
Amono: these lonely hills, now wrapped ic> 
ploom ? 

Oh, no! Come friends, bear the cold form away.. 
And. with due rites, eDclose ft in. the to«>b. 



BEAVER'S BOOm. 



Though the following famous song belongs appro- 
priately to the political history of the State of Ohio, it 
is inserted here because the hero belongs to the history 
of Southwestern Pennsylvania from the time of the 
War of '12 to the year in which he removed from Pitts- 
burgh to Trumbull county. Ohio, in 18-13, where he died 
in 1877. He was born in Somerset county, Pennsylva- 
nia; was a distinguis-hed member of the bar of West- 
moreland and Allegheny counties; and a remarkable 
man — a very renyarka-ble r»an tn that he carried his 
coarseness cm his exterior while all was fine within. 
The song was written by J6k\n Greiner, the State Libra- 
rian, a man of fine lilerary and social attainments, who 
^ame into general notice as a writer of political songs in 
fhe Hard Cider campaign of IS40. The circumstances 
which led to its production are as foMows, as Mr. Beaver 
himself has given the writer the story — 

The origin of the song was the first appearance of 
Mr. Beaver in the Senate under the most peculiar cir- 
cumstances. He was elected in 1845, before the day of 
numerous railroads in Ohio. The session commenced 
on the first Monday in December ; the Whigs and Dem- 
«>crats were a tie, and the a.bsence of one naember would 
give the opposite parly the organization of the Senate; 
hence the greatest anxiety existed for every man to be 
promptly at his post. Mr. Beaver went from his home 
at Newton Falls, Trumbull county, to Cleveland, and 
designed to take a boat to Sandusky city, and thence to 
go down the Sandusky, Mansfield & Newark railroad to 
Newark; but no boat could be procured, and he was 
compelled to take a wagon for Columbus. The roads 
were very muddy, and progress was slow. At a distance 
of twelve miles from Columbus the wagon broke down 
and left the occupants sticking in the mud. This oc- 
curred at three o'clock in the morning of Monday, the 
day on which the legislature would meet at nine a. m. 
Mr. Beaver determined the Whigs should not sutrer on 
account of his absence, and accordingly started on foot. 



beaw^er's boots. ' 411 



^through mud of any imaginable depth, for the capitol- 
Five minutes before nine o'cloelc, the Whigs were gath- 
ered in groups about the ctipitol deploring the absence 
•of Beaver, and lamenting the triumph which the Dem- 
ocrats would enjoy in ten minu.tes in the election of the 
•officers of the Senate. A member came out of the Hall 
•iind excitedly declared to Mr. Dennison ( Wm., Jr., af- 
terward Attorney General of the United States; thai 
i>eaver ought to be killed — tlie bell by this tim-e having 
l»een rung and Charles C. Conv-ers, of Muskingum, after- 
Avard elected Speaker, en the floor xnaking a speech to 
kill time. Dennison, however, replied that Beaver had 
<.OKie and averted liis deserved immolation, at the same 
time eyeing a huge mjving miss so covered with mud 
HS to be barely recognizable as a human being, pro- 
,pelled by two sturdy duck-legs terminated witli feet 
which looked like ii pair of potato-holes. "No!" said 
I he excited member, "he has not come!" " Ye.s," re- 
plied Dennison, "that Is he," p«inting to the approach- 
lug mound of mud. "What! those boots!" And from 
mat day " Beaver's Boots " became a byword for years 
in Ohio and furnished the Democrats with an inexhaus- 
Uble source of ridicule on the ablest member the Whigs 
.had in the Senate for the next six years. 



Strike, strike the harp 1 eouae, sweep th^ ijre I 
Kindle and blaze, Promethean fire, 
Tune up your sweetest dulcet notes, 
My ponderous theme is Beaver's Boots ! 

Old Trurabull's bull — a bull whose hide 
Orew thick and tough — took sick and died ; 
His soul went with all other brutes, 
His hide went into — • Beaver's Boots ! 

Millions of creeping things lie dead, 
Mingled and crushed beneath his tread, 
Two Insect Smashers — Death recruits 
His ranks in following Beaver's Boots ! 

When first they thundered up the aisle, 
Filled inside — outside with Free Soil, 
The Senate hushed their fierce disputes. 
And speechless gazed at Beaver's Boots ! 



412 THE LILY OF THE WEST. 

The tangled hair of Whitman* rose, 
And pale with fear grew Graham'sf nose, 
Byersj alarmed and backward shoots, 
Aghast, amazed at Beaver's Boots ! 

The Chase|| was up, the Swift§ grew lazy. 
The Burns*[f grew cold, the Payne** grew easy. 
E'en Cunningham'sff white head salutes 
The High Soled man in Beaver's Boots ! 

That well filled vest with pride displays 
The guard-chain red of other days ; 
That unshaved, honest face denotes 
A Governor stands in Beaver's Boots ! JJ 



* Plenry C. Whitman, a leading Democrat, had 
long, lank, Indian-like hair that came down over his 
.-: boulders — a man of some oratorical power, afterward 
a judge. 

t John Graham, a Democrat, with a beacon light in 
liis nose if not in his head which gave him distinction. 

X Andrew Byers, a Democrat. 

II Salmon P. Chase, not then a member of the Sen- 
ate, but canvassing for the United States Senate. 

§ Lucian Swift, a henchman of Chase. 

If Barnabas Burns. 

** H. B. Payne, a prominent Democrat, afterward in 
Congress from Cuyahoga. 

tt James Cunningham, a Democrat, prematurelj' 
iirey. 

Xt Mr. Beaver was regarded the leader of the Whig 
party in the Senate, and spoken of as a candidate for the 
governorship of Ohio. The last line ran over the state 
like a prophesy to be fulfilled as certainly as a decree 
of Fate. 



HANDSOME MARY, 
THE LILY OF THE WEST. 



The following song belongs to the era of the keel- 
l>oatmau on the Ohio river and its tributaries, although 
it is sung occasionally at this day. The heroine is said 



THE LILT 'OV THE WEST, 413 



Tio have been the daughter of u clerg^ymam of Lexing- 
ton., Kentucky — her name, Mary Morrison, on a<;count 
•of her great beauty aMd aocomplishments, styled "The 
IBelle of Lexington "and "The Lily of the W-est." For 
some unknown cause, she raai away from her home, and 
iibandotied herself to a life of dissipation in Louisville. 
Here, a young man, of fine address, from Ohio, became 
enamored of her charms, and made^ proposal of mar- 
iriage to hor. She accepted hi«n. But while awaiting 
tlie wedding-day, he feecame aw^re of her shameless 
life; and in a naom.ent of passion, incident Kpon meet- 
ing her in company with her lover for the nonce, he 
killed him: for which toe was tried for murder and con- 
victed; and while in prison awaiting the day of execu- 
tion, fee composed the;song which bears her na-me. 

For all whicli aiid the song, I am indebted to my 
ijenial friexid W*n. H., Moriow, Esq,, of Manor, 



Whea first I came to Louisville soiwe pleasijire 

there to fiad, 
A damsel fair froui Lexington was pleasing to 

my mind. 
Her cherry cheeks and ruby lips, like arrows 

pierced my breast, — 
They called her Handsome Mary, the Lily oi 

the West. 

I courted her awhile, in hopes her love to gain, 
But she proved false to me which causM me 

much pain. 
She robbed me of my liberty, deprived me of 

my rest, — 
They called her Handsome Mary, the Lily of 

the West, 

One evening as I rambled, down by a shady 

grove, 
I saw a man of low degree conversing with my 

love. 
They were singing songs of melody, while I was 

sore distressed, 
O faithless, faithless Mary, the Lily of the West ! 



414 THE BOAT-HORN. 



I stepped up to my rival, my dagger in my hand, 
I caught him by the collar, and boldly bade hin^ 

stand ; 
Being driven to desperation, I stabbed him m 

the breast, 
But was betrayed by Mary, the Lily of the West I 

At length the day of trial came, I boldly made 

my plea. 
But the judge and jury they soon convicted me. 
To deceive both judge and jury so modestly she 

dressed. 
And there she swore my life away, the Lily of 

the West. 



THE BOAT-HORN. 



Tne author of this poem was William Orlando But- 
ler, a son of Percival, the fourth of the Butler brothers, 
distinguished in the annals of warfare in the West. 
He was an ensign in the Second United States Infantry 
ill the War of 'i2, and made a prisoner under General 
Winchester at the Battle of River Raisin, January 22nd, 
J813. 



boatman ! wind that horn again ; 

For never did the listening air 

Upon its lambent bosom bear 

So wild, so soft, so sweet a strain — 

What though its notes are sad and few, 

Bj every simple boatman blown. 

Yet is each pulse to nature true. 

And melody in every tone ! 

How oft in boyhood's joyous day. 

Unmindful of the lapsing hours, 

I've loitered on my homeward way 

By wild Ohio's brink of flowers. 

While some lone boatman, from the deck, 



THE BOAT-HORN. 415 



Poured his soft u umbers to that tide, 
As if to charm from storm and wreck 
The boat where all his fortunes ride ! 
Delighted Nature drank the sound, 
Enchanted Echo bore it round 
In whispers soft, and softer still, 
From hill to plain, and plain to hill ; 
Till e'en the thoughtless, frolic boy, 
Elate with hope, and wild with joy. 
Who gamboled by the river side. 
And sported with the fretting tide, 
Feels something new pervade his breast, 
Chain his light step, repress his jest. 
Bends o'er the flood his eager ear 
To catch the sounds far off yet dear — 
Drinks the sweet draught, but knows not why 
The tear of rapture fills his eye. 
And can he now, to manhood grown. 
Tell why those notes, simple and lone. 
As on the ravished ear they fell, 
Bound every sense in magic spell ? 
There is a tide of feeling given 
To all on earth, its fountain Heaven. 
Beginning with the dewy flower, 
Just oped in Flora's vernal bower — 
Eising creation's orders through 
With louder murmer, brighter hue — 
That tide is sympathy ! its ebb and flow 
Gives Hfe its hues of joy and woe. 
Music, the master spirit that can move 
Its waves to war, or lull them into love — 
Can cheer the sinking sailor 'mid the wave, 
And bid the soldier on ! nor fear the grave ; 
Inspire the fainting pilgrim on the road, 
And elevate his soul to claim his Grod. 
Then boatman ! wind that horn again ! 
Though much of sorrow mark its strain, 
Yet are its notes to sorrow dear ; 
What though they wake fond memory's tear 1 
Tears are sad memory's sacred feast, 
And rapture oft her chosen guest. 



4M THE PENNSYLVANIA LINK 



— 1812 — 

THE FENNSYLYANIA LINE. 

Freem€D ! jeave each lovely charmer ! 

Round our sacred standard Join ; 
Haste and bu<:kle oe your armor — 

Form the Pennsylvama Line 1 

FennsylvaBia, fai»ed In story, 
Of our fedenral arch the key,. 

Calls her sons to fields of glory,. 
There to die, or still live free> 

Arts of peace aaust now knock u^jder — 
Martial ardor bears the sway — 

Mark ! Bellona calls in thunder 
To the battle march away I 

Haughty Britain long assailed us, 
Reckoning on our passive mood ; 

But at length our patience failed us, 
Fired is now our Yankee blood I 

Britain and her saucy minions. 

Freemen's wrath shall quickly know: 

Freedom's bird on sweeping pinnions 
Hurls her vengeance on the foe \ 

Shade of Wayne ! from blissful regio»s. 
Dart a glance of thy keen eye — 

View thy native state's brave legions 
March to conquer or to die ! 

Shade of Wayne \ thy matchless spirit. 

Animates us to be free — 
Tars and soldiers all inherit 

Thy undaunted bravery. 

See our naval stadard flaring 

Proudly o^er the mountain wave ; 

Graced by Biddle, cool and darings 
And Decatur, nobly brave ! 



JAMES BIRD. 417 



View agaiQ our war-clad freemen, 
Marshaled on the tented plains ; 

Prompt to aid our jj;allant seamen, 
Break their captive brethren's chains. 

Freedom's cause we fondly cherish, 
We'll ne'er fill ignoble graves : 

We will triumph, or we'll perish. 
For Columbians can't be slaves ! 

Haste then, comrades, leave each charmer! 

Round our sacred standard join 5 
Haste ! and buckle on your armor, 

Form the Pennsylvania Line ! 



— 1813 — 

THE MOURNFUL TRAGEDY OF 
JAMES BIRD, 



The ballad of James Bird is one of the most popular 
of the battle songs to be found in this volume. By whom 
it was written, I have not been able to learn; nor noth- 
ing more about the unfortunate deserter, than that he 
belonged to the Bird family of Bedford, Pennsylvania, 
and that, by one of his relatives, his remains have been 
removed from the shore of Erie to commingle with the 
dust of his kindred in the cemetery at Bedford. The 
stories of Bird and Sergeant Trotter — see page 111 —are 
confounded frequently. A burlesque variation of this 
ballad is in vogue among negro minstrels. 



Sons of freedom, listen to me ! 

And, ye daughters, too, give ear! 
You a sad and mournful story 

As ever was told shall hear. 
Hull, you know, his troops surrendered, 

And defenceless left the west ; 
Then our forces quick assembled, 

The invaders to resist. 



41S JAMES BIRl!^. 

'^Mong the troops that marched to Erie 

Were the Kingstoo volunteers, 
Captain Thomas them commanded, 

To protect our west frontiers. 
Tender were the scenes of parting, 

Mothers wrung their hands and cried. 
Maidens wept their swains in secret, 

Fathers strove their tears to hide. 

But there's one among the number. 

Tall and graceful is his mien. 
Firm his step, his look undaunted^ 

Scarce a nobler youth was seen ; 
One sweet kiss he snatched from Mary, 

Craved his mother's prayers once more, 
Pressed his father's hand, and left them. 

For Lake Erie's distant shore. 

Mary tried to say, " Farewell, James, " 

Waved her hand, but nothing spoke ; 
"Good-bye, Bird, may Heaven protect you,"^ 

From the rest at parting broke. 
8oon they came where noble Perry 

Had assembled all his fleet, 
There the gallant Bird enlisted, 

Hoping soon the foe to meet. 

Where is Bird ? the battle rages — 

Is he in the strife or no ? 
Now the cannons roar tremendous, 

Dare he meet the hostile foe? 
Aye, behold him — see with Perry 

In the self-same ship to fight. 
Though his messmates fall around hira, 

Nothing can his soul affright. 

But, behold, a ball has struck him, 

See the crimson current flow, 
"Leave the deck," exclaimed brave Perry, 

"No," cried Bird, " I will not go ; 



JAMES BIRD. 41i 

Here, on deck, I took my statioH, 

Ne'er will Bird his colors fly ; 
I'll stand by you, gallant captain^ 

Till we conquer or we die. " 

ij^tiil he fought, though faiat and bleeding, 

Till our stars and stripes arose, 
Fictory having crowned our efforts, 

All trlumpliant o'er our foes. 
And did Bird receive a pension ? 

Was he to his friends restored i 
No — nor never to his bosom, 

Clasped the maid his heart adored. 

But there came most dreadful tidings. 

From Lake Erie's distant shore, 
Better if poor Bird had perished 

'Midst the battle's awful roar ; 
^' Dearest parents, " said the letter, 

" This will bring sad news to you ; 
But do not mourn your first beloved, 

Though this brings his last adieu I 

*' I must suffer for deserting 

From the brig Niagara ; 
Kead this letter, brothers, sisters, 

'Tis the last you'll have from me. " 
Dark and gloomy was the morning 

Bird was ordered out to die ; 
Where's the breast not dead to pity, 

But for him would heave a sigh ? 

Lo ! he fought so brave on Erie, 

Freely bled, and nobly dared ; 
Let his courage plead for mercy, 

Let his precious life be spared ! 
See him march, and hear his fetters, 

Harsh they clank upon the ear 1 
But bis step is firm and manly, 

For his heart ne'er harbored fear. 



420 perry's victory. 

See ! he kneels upon his coffin ! 

Sure his death can do no good, 
Spare him — hark ! God, they've shot hira^ 

See ! his bosom streams with blood ! 
Farewell, Bird, farewell forever ; 

Friends and home he'll see no more, 
For his mangled corpse lies buried 

On Lake Erie's distant shore. 



- 1813 - 
PERRTS VICTORY. 

Ye tars of Columbia, give ear to my story, 

Who fought with brave Perry, where cannons 
did roar ; 
Your valor has gained you an immortal glory, 

A fame that shall last until time is no more. 
Columbian tars are the true sons of Mars, 

They rake fore and aft, when they fight on the 
deep ; 
On the bed of Lake Erie, commanded by Perry, 
They caused many Britons to take their last 
sleep. 

The tenth of September, let us all remember, 

So long as the globe on her axis rolls round ; 
Our tars and marines, on Lake Erie were seen, 

To make the proud flag of Great Britain come 
down. 
The van of our fleet, the British to meet, 

Commanded by Perry, the Lawrence bore down ; 
Her guns they did roar with such terrific power. 

That savages trembled at the dreadful sound. 

The Lawrence sustained a most dreadful fire ; 
She fought three to one, for two glasses or 
more ; 
While Perry, undaunted, did firmly stand by her. 
The proud foe on her heavy broadsides did 
pour. 



Kerry's victory, 421 



aiei- masts b^iag shattered, her rigging all tattered. 

Her b •oms and her yards being all shot awaj ; 
And few left on deck to manage the wreck, 

Our hero on board her n ) longer could stay. 

£n this situation, the pride of our Eation 

8ure Heaven had guarded unhurt all the while, 
While many a hero, miintaining his station, 
Fell close by his side, and was thrown on the 
pile, 
Mut mark you, and wonder, when eleiMents thun- 
der, 
When death and destruction are stalkinj? all 
round, 
if is flag he did carry on board the Ni'gara,; 
Such valor on record was never vet found. 

There is one gallant act of our noble commander-. 
While writing my song, I must notice with 
pride ; 
While launched in the boat, that carried the standi 
ard, 
A ball whistled through her, just close by his 
side, 
^ays Perry, " The rascals intend for to drown us. 
But push on, my biave boys, vou never need 
fear!" 
And with his own coat he plugged up the boat, 
And through fire and sulphur away he did 
steer. 

The fam^d Ni'gara, now proud of her Perry, 

Displayed all her banners in gallant array ; 
And twenty-five guns on her deck she did carry, 

Which soon put an end to this bloody affray ; 
The rear of our fleet was brought up complete, 

The signal was given to break through the line ; 
While starboard and larboard, and from every 
quarter, 

The lamps of Columbia did gloriously shine. 

The bold British Lion roared out his last thunder. 
When Perry attackkl him close in the rear ; 



422 perry's victory. 

Columbia's eagle soon made him crouch under, 
And roar out for quarter, as soon you shall hear. 

Oh, had you been there, I now do declare. 

You'd have seen such a sight aue'ers you'd 
seen before ; 

Six red bloody flags, that no longer could wag, 
All lay at the feet of our brave commodore. 

Brave Elliot, whose valor must now be recorded. 
On board the Ni'gara so well played his part, 
His gallant assistance to Perry afforded, 

We'll place him the second on Lake Erie's 
chart. 
In the midst of the battle, when guns they did 
rattle, 
The Lawrence a wreck, and the men 'most all 
slain ; 
Away he did steer, and brought up the rear. 
And by this manoeuvre the victory was gained. 

Oh, had you but seen those noble commanders 

Embracing each other when the conflict wag 
o'er; 
And viewing all those invincible standards. 

That never had yielded to any before. 
Says Perry, " Brave Elliot, give me your hand, sir ; 

This day we have gained an immortal renown ; 
So long as Columbians Lake Erie command, sir, 

Let brave Captain Elliot with laurels be 
crowned. " 

Great Britain may boast of her conquering heroes. 

Her Rodneys, her Nelsons, and all the whole 
crew; 
But none in their glory have told such a story, 

Nor boasted such feats as Columbians do. 
The whole British fleet was captured complete. 

Not one single vessel from us got away ; 
And prisoners some hundreds, Columbians won- 
dered, 

To see them all anchored and moored in our 



THE VICTORY ON LAKE ERIE. 423 

May Heaven still smile on the shades of our 
heroes 
Who fought in that conflict their country to save. 
And check the proud spirit of those murdering 
bravoes, 
That wish to divide us and make us all slaves. 
Columbians sing, and make the woods ring, 
We'll toast those have heroes by sea and by 
land; 
While Britons drink Sherry, Columbians, Perry, 
We'll toast him about with a full glass in hand. 



THE VICTORY ON LAKE ERIE, 



Forever remembered be the gallant story, 

How valiant Perry with Columbia's crew. 
With love of country fired, and love of glory, 
Proud Britain's host on Erie's lake o'erthrew. 
He, like her rocky banks. 
Amidst his slaughtered ranks 
Stood firm, no fear could shake his soul ; 
Though streams of blood 
Rushed like a flood. 
And thunders shook from pole to pole. 

Hark I now the cannons with impetuous roar. 

Deal dread destruction from the unequal foe, 
The spirit of the lake sought refuge on the shore, 
And for the fallen brave joined in Columbia's 
woe. 

And now, the Lawrence lost, 
On Erie's bosom tossed, 
His flag alone the hero saves ; 
As thick as hail 
Their shot assail. 
Still round his head his flag he waves. 

On the Niagara's deck now see him bound ! 

Now mid the astonished foe his course he steers. 
Now dying groans — now victory's shouts resound I 

Now panic fear amidst their ranks appears ! 



424 THE HERO OF ERIE. 



And now Colurabia's son 

The gallant fi^ht has won ; 
For see, the British lion cowers ; 

Huzza ! huzza ! 

All hail the day ! 
'' We have met the enemy^ and they are ours !" 



TffJEJ HERO OF ERIE, 



To Columbia's loud call my dear WilHam re- 
sponded, 

And to my fond arms bade a tender adieu, 
In hope to return with the laurels of glory, 

And rfap all the fruits of affection so true. 

While Fortune, who laughs at the purpose of 

mortals, 

Had said that I ne'er should behold him again; 

In the cold, silent grave, my sweet William^ 

neglected. 

Lies far from his love, among heaps of the slain. 

When bravely he fell, in the front of the battle. 
Contending with Britons on Erie's dark wavCy 

! had I been there to expire with my lover. 
Not lived thus a vielim of woe for the brave. 

Yet cease, my poor, widowed heart, from thy 

wild sorrow, 

A few years, at most, shall thy William restore; 

In the pure land of heroes with transport thoult 

join him. 

Where war and where death shall divide us no 



FINIS. 



( H14 8 9 



\^ .. <^ ""'' ^"^ 
















"ot^ 



<3 




j^o ^Ov;^ 



. ,^^^', x/ ;^^ %,^^ /: 







■^h'^ 
^"■^K 











HECKMAN 

BINDERY INC. 

.^ DEC 88 



